


The Polar Bear's Bride

by Thecrazydragonlady15



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe- East of the Sun and West of the Moon, East, Edith Pattou, F/M, I am so sorry for the characters that die, Please Forgive me, There is some mention of alcohol, and abuse ranging from emotional to physical, but they aren't graphic, just be safe though, tw: abuse, tw: alcohol, tw: childbirth, tw: death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 91
Words: 75,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecrazydragonlady15/pseuds/Thecrazydragonlady15
Summary: Marinette lives a simple life with her parents in their bakery. They aren’t rich but neither are they wanting; that is, until Sabine Cheng suddenly falls ill on Marinette’s nineteenth birthday, and the bakery falls on hard times. There has to be something that this kind-hearted girl can do! Going off to live with a Polar Bear wasn’t exactly what she had in mind but she’ll do it if it means helping her mother get better. Follow Marinette as she begins her new life in a castle, fighting an evil troll queen, and finds the meaning of true love.





	1. Prologue: Recollections from the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I know, for those who have been following me for a while, that I've been a bit MIA but there's a reason for it and that reason is this one right here. Welcome to my newest piece of guilty pleasure. I am so honored to have been given the chance to participate in the Miraculous Big Bang Fic Writing Event. We, all of us involved, have spent months crafting stories to share with all of you.
> 
> I'd like to especially thank paladin-of-fandoms and citizen-of-the-fandom for being my awesome responders! (Check out their Tumblr links at the end.)
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! ^..^ Thanks for coming to read my newest story. Before you do, head over to paladin-of-fandoms's Tumblr page to check out the completely amazing and awesome cover for this story! All credit for the art goes to paladin-of-fandom!
> 
> https://paladin-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/private/168404828381/tumblr_p0rl5m8D3h1w4iljr
> 
> Enjoy!

In a little townhouse in Paris, passed down through the generations, a young, dark haired woman coughed as she cleared some dust out of the way of a round window which she flung open to let in some light and fresh air. Her green eyes examined the space she was in. She sighed. The attic was larger than she remembered from her childhood which she had spent running in and out of the old, worn boxes and it was far dirtier than she remembered on top of it.

This was going to take forever.

She ran a hand over her bangs. Maybe if she could get this done quickly, she would get a chance to meet Valery for a final meal before the red-head took off for America. It would be months before they would see each other again. Skype only did so much. However, she’d promised her mom and grandma that she would get this job done before anything else and now those words were coming back to haunt her. Starting in a far corner, she pulled box after box down, dusting and quickly going through the items. Some were hers. Others belonged to other family members. After about an hour of looking, she came across a large, ornate trunk. It looked old. It was a deep brown in color and held in place by strong iron bands on the top and bottom. Emma paused. There was something mysterious and beautiful about it and she placed the box she’d just pulled off of it down to the side, dropping to her knees to get a better view of the insides as she slowly opened the lid. At first, she was confused by the contents. There was a white pullover shirt that she ran her hands over. It was softer than anything she’d ever touch. Then there was a tiny polar bear necklace that shimmered in the sunlight. She found a beautiful red dress in there as well, wondering why it was stored away.

Then she found the journal.

It was just as old as the trunk. The cover was leather bound and the pages smelled of musk. Emma gently scooped it up and opened it, skimming through and realizing that several people had shared this one journal, for a reason she didn’t understand. Yet. The language, she recognized, as a much older version, nay, even archaic form, of modern French but she could guess as some of the words she did not know.

Still reading, she stood, moving over to an old chair that was stored in the attic as she flipped back to the beginning, reading the words, “The story on these pages may be hard to believe but they are true. My name is Tom Dupain and this is how my daughter, Marinette, became the polar bear’s bride.”


	2. Tom Dupain

The story on these pages may be hard to believe but they are true. My name is Tom Dupain and this is how my daughter, Marinette, became the polar bear’s bride.

I grew up in the kingdom of the Franks, a place commonly referred to as Francia by all who knew it, and life was particularly simple. My parents owned a bakery in the capital city, closer to the interior of the kingdom, where they sold large amounts of bread and sweets for their city folk and earned a pretty coin for their work. “No one has better bread than the Dupains,” it was said. My parents, proud bakers they were, were often called upon to bake for large and regal events, when supplies would have it, and their name travelled far, earning us customers from places we did not even know existed. It was thrilling and probably could easily be over-described by a son who couldn’t be prouder.

Despite my love and pride for the work they had done, there was one thing I never could seem to be alright with: it was always pressed upon me that one day, I would take their place. This idea bothered me. I was young and ambitious. There was more in the wide world for me to discover before I was forced to settle down.

So, while I and my parents were still relatively young, I left. 

I went on a heart-stopping journey to discover new lands and people, to find new things, and bring home my journeys once my blood had settled.  
I traveled for nearly two years. The French Indian Company had been open for some time so my first journey was to India. I hopped a boat in one of the sea side villages and worked my way to the foreign country as the new ship’s cook. We made stops along the way. My eyes grew wide as we entered the first port; I had heard tale of the homes on water but never believed it until I arrived in Venice, Italy. The sights, the smells! The sounds of the seabirds echoing overhead. Ah! Such magnificence cannot be captured on this flimsy journal paper. I remember the feeling I had walking off of the plank; my heart pounded and all around me was a language I had never heard before. It made me dizzy. Or was that because of the sun? Either way, I was elated and knew that my adventure was only just beginning. Our stay there lasted two weeks. Even then, I was almost sure I didn’t want to get back on the boat to continue on. I had fallen in love with this place and truly wanted to stay but knew that I would be disappointed if I did not complete the quest I had originally set out on. With a heavy heart, I watched as Italy disappeared from sight. 

We continued southwest for several weeks. There were a couple more ports of call to refresh supplies and handle business but we eventually left those behind as we continued onward, in between the country of Egypt and Israel, taking us through a narrow body of water down the coast of Africa, until we were no longer in the Mediterranean but the Arabian Sea.

My first sight of India was our port of call. It was loud and boisterous; many of my fellow Franks called orders as crates and boxes were loaded and unloaded, people with earth brown skin pushed through with carts laden with goods, and animals of all shapes and sizes milled about. Such a busy place! I was immediately drawn to some of the local food being sold in stalls outside, but quickly regretted it. The people smiled and did their best to communicate with me. I asked as many questions as I could. Gestures helped a bit but in the end, they were frustrated and so was I and, eventually, I was dumped in favor of someone who could actually communicate with them. I started to lose hope. Suddenly, a child grabbed my hand. I was confused. He tugged incestuously though and I followed him to a door where he smiled, motioning to an older woman. Her smile was toothy and she was withered with age but her eyes sparkled strong. She greeted me as if I was a friend from far away and it made me reel in surprise. She motioned for me to come to her. I did. She brought me to her kitchen and showed me, of all things, how to bake using their techniques which turned my hesitation to excitement which then coursed through every inch of my being. The room we were in was hot and stuffy. The walls were made of mud and straw but appeared to be sturdy; ten other people milled about including children who would sometimes take pieces of what we baked and nibble on them, staying out of our way along the wall. It was a magnificent experience. The thrill of learning was there and I will be eternally grateful to this woman. She went slow, showing and then re-showing, clearly defining each part of the process so that I could keep up. Then she let me try. It was hard work but after a couple of hours, I made a thinner type of bread that was firm and apparently used to pick up some of their foods which I was invited to try with the men of the house. They worked the docks and learned some of my language which helped. It brought a smile to my face. I felt my heart swell again.

Another place I would be willing to call home. 

My time there was well spent. I learned quite a bit and found myself drawn to Dadiji and her family, enjoying my time baking and playing with the children, learning a little of their language which the Franks called Hindi, before eventually climbing back on a new boat to continue my quest. 

The family saw me off that day. Several of the kids climbed on my arms as we had taken to playing in the last month but when Dadiji approached, they scrambled away, sadness crossing on their faces as they realized what her approach meant. The men gave me a hearty clap on the shoulder. She provided me with some bread and, instead of a hug, which I had learned could get us in trouble, she gave me a little bow and words of well wishes. 

I was glad it was dark and the docks quiet. The traditions they had broken just for that moment meant the world to me. 

The new boat I traveled on was titled the _Avontuur_. I was not done seeing the Eastern world but the French India Company did not travel far off of the coast of India; instead, I was forced to find employment with a Dutch ship heading North into a much larger country called China. Captain Visser was an older gentleman with graying hair, a missing eye, and a sharp jaw; one could argue he was a privateer of some sort but he only laughed at the questioning looks I would shoot him. He was good and proud of his ship and crew. His skills were legendary which he proved time and time again. The first was when we were caught in a monsoon shortly after leaving India. His quick thinking managed to keep us from capsizing but we weren’t immune from some relatively minor damages that made us pull into a port for two months before we again journeyed North. Visser, with the help of his second who spoke some broken French, took a fancy too me. I to him. He taught me how to read the stars and a map, even the tides and weather and sea birds. The crew taught me how to sing sea shanties. I learned to climb and rig and use a sword (just in case pirates were foolish enough to attack which the British certainly had no lack of) and they even taught me some more… colorful Dutch words which I used readily in response to some of their more creative pranks. I did not enjoy being strung upside down thanks to a makeshift cook-trap but the men were good natured and the pranks did not damper our feelings for each other. Our journey eventually came to an end in a port city called Nanjing. If Italy and India had taken my breath then Nanjing took my whole being with its grandeur.

The buildings nearest us were not particularly fancy. They were dark and stuffed full of merchants and like in the other countries, only this place seemed to be more packed for foreign white faces; definitely British from what I could see. Visser, standing next to me on the deck of his ship, said something, and in the months of traveling with him, I roughly translated his statement to, “The British control this land. Let us hope it doesn’t come to blood.”

For some reason, it made me shiver.

We pulled into the port with the aid of several smaller ships and slanted eyed men with bronze colored skin. They shouted to each other in yet a new language. I licked my lips. They tasted of the salt air we had just left. Visser asked if I was nervous which I admitted to and he clapped my shoulder heartily, assuring that he would give me a guide to help with my further travels. He even kindly showed me a map. There was a distinct line on it leading back West and even into the South. He called the line “The Silk Road” and said that if I was looking to return West, I could take the land road back to the Mediterranean and then on to Venice where I would return home. 

The day of my departure was upon me. Captain Visser and some of the crew came to see me off, giving me hearty claps on the shoulders and well wishes of strong breezes in my sails. I thanked them all. Before I left though, Visser pulled me aside. He instructed me to find a man named Cheng Bai at the Lotus of the Sea. He pointed down the cobbled street. There was an ornate building some ways down which was decorated in golden symbols and images of mighty creatures defending the front doors even though from that distance, I couldn’t make out exactly what they were.

Still, I had a location. I was ready to move on to the next phase of my journey. Throwing my traveling sack over my shoulder, I thanked him for everything. Visser, like the others, clapped my shoulder and wished me well as I walked down the plank and off into yet another new and inviting world.

Lotus of the Sea was a bar. From the outside it looked presentable and inside was just as well decorated. The scent of musk hit me hard when I walked in; a small, squirmy looking man came up and spoke to me in some of the fast language I had only heard in pieces from the galleon. I waved him away. He wouldn't leave. Not until a slightly larger man grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and practically threw him into another room, spitting angry words at him. The little man scurried away, eyes narrowed. He turned back to me. He wore a blue colored tunic that was long sleeved and closed with some kind of holdings over his right portion of the chest, his hair was pulled back and braided down his back and he wore comfortable looking slippers. He presented his hands in front of himself and gave me a small bow.

“I am Cheng Bai,” he greeted in accented French. “You must be the young man Captain Visser spoke of. Tom Dupain correct?”

“I am,” I answered. He smiled. Turning sideways, he motioned to a back room. Its entrance was covered by a beaded curtain but I followed him there.


	3. Tom Dupain

There were things happening further back that I wish I could un-see. 

I was not so innocent at the time to be unwise to the way of people, especially in carnal means, but I was still unprepared for the vastly different world that appeared before my eyes. Cheng Bai did not stop. He seemed completely devoid of interest in the actions happening around us. I coughed when we walked through a rather smoky room. Eventually we came out to a smaller but better decorated room with pillows strewn around a floor-table. He motioned for me to sit. I did and he sat across from me. He called for someone in another room and a woman, wearing a bright pink and yellow outfit, entered. Her face was painted delicately white with rose red lips and her hair was decorated high with the most ornate hairpiece I’d ever seen. He introduced her to me as Madame Lotus, head of the establishment. She bowed and immediately called for another girl to bring us drinks and then, to my astonishment, ordered her to stay and please us with her service. I was confused of course. My life had been a bit sheltered but Cheng, upon seeing my distress, ordered the girl away and we were left in comfortable silence for some time. He sipped at the drink that was offered. I followed suit. It was bitter but not completely unpleasant. He sat his cup down. “So young Dupain,” he started, “What exactly are your plans?” I shrugged.

“I’ve got none if I am to be honest.” He nodded.

“Then you are in need of a guide yes?”

“Yes.” I paused. “Is that not what Captain Visser told you?” He chuckled before taking another sip of his drink. 

“Captain Visser tells many things. Some things more true than others. I was just confirming the information that had been given to me was accurate.” He smiled. “But please, tell me more of yourself. The captain gave me very little and I am curious about the man who has travelled halfway around the world for the thrill of adventure.”

Hours passed around that little table. I recounted to Cheng the adventures I’d had in Venice and India, the people I’d met and the things I’d learned, relaying to him my interest in baking techniques which he found a bit odd considering that most of the cooking, and consequently baking, was left to the women of a household or servants. I explained that ours was a bit different. He nodded, accepting that information easily. Almost too easily. I asked him why that was and he simply told me that he was a man of the people, accepting different ideas was a skill most valuable to his place. I nodded. That would make sense. 

Eventually our time grew short and Cheng informed me, “I am afraid I will not be staying long here in the city of Nanjing. I am currently here to check on a distant relative and, now that I am aware that his health has improved, I will be returning to the city of Beijing in the North. My family resides there. You are welcomed to travel and stay with us as an honored guest.” I blinked. 

“I would like that greatly.”

“Excellent,” he smiled, “While there, I will ask for Lee Ai to show you some of our cooking techniques. It is a bit unorthodox and she might be harsh for it but, please, do not let her demeanor put you off. For now,” he stood, “Let us to bed. The journey will be long tomorrow but I must make haste to return to the capital. There is work I must accomplish and my wife can only put questioning eyes off for so long.”

It wouldn’t be until much later that I learned that by his leaving Beijing, Cheng had broken a lot of social standards. As a government official, he was required to be in his position almost daily. A servant should have gone in his place. His wife, a lovely woman by all accounts, understood his worry and had bought him some time; however, even such a powerful woman had her limits and questions were being raised in the capital, subsequently leading to the death threat that brings my story around to the beginning.


	4. Tom Dupain

We traveled from Nanjing in the South to Beijing in the North by wagon. There was only one servant, a man I had not spoken to yesterday and was only briefly introduced to before our journey. Cheng asked if I had skill with a weapon. When I told him that Visser had been sure to train me on the saber, he nodded, and handed me a short dagger, saying that without the man power, we were responsible for our own health. I nodded. I swallowed hard at the thought but it didn’t help to calm my raging heart.

The journey took us roughly a week. Good fortune must have been smiling down at us as no bandits decided we were worth the time; or maybe it was the non-descript vehicle we traveled in. Despite apparently being rather wealthy, or maybe it was because of such, Cheng was highly secretive about his status. While he questioned me relentlessly about France, my home, my parents, anything I asked was avoided. Tactfully but still avoided. It made me wonder what in the world was going on but I knew better than to ask straight out. When I wasn’t questioned, I spent my time staring out at the vast and changing landscape; we easily went from seaside mountains to flat, sometimes watery, terrain where people worked relentlessly at planting various crops. Cheng informed me that the main one was rice. Near the end, we eventually left the farming fields behind and into a magnificent city. We entered at night and many people were asleep. The driver took us through back roads to avoid any guards that might be out but we eventually came to the back door of a home that definitely deserved a place there. I was shaken awake by Cheng as the door opened and we were ushered out and inside a beautiful garden. There was a pond on one side, a swaying willow next to it, decorated in delicate pink flowers for the spring season, and a red painted bridge that led up to the rear of an L-shaped building. I’d never seen such architecture in my life. It took my breath away.

There was a sliding sound and a person emerged from the door. Cheng’s face broke out into a brilliant smile. He practically ran forward as a woman in a green silk robe came forth, her arms spread wide. They embraced. I got the feeling that such emotions was not common among their society because the servant who had been our driver quickly looked away before bowing and mumbling something, disappearing into a back part of the house once he was dismissed. 

When they broke apart, her eyes landed on me. The woman smacked his shoulder. She scolded him. Cheng laughed sheepishly.

“Tom, this is my wife, Cheng Meihui.” She bowed. I returned with a bowed head of my own. “I’m afraid I offended her a bit by not informing her of the arrival of a guest. She apologizes for her appearance.” I waved my hands.

“It’s alright.” I smiled and she returned it but the spark in her eye told me that her husband was still going to hear it later. She called into the house. A few minutes later, a tight faced woman carrying a lantern appeared, kneeling before the two homeowners. She ordered something and the woman walked off. Cheng got my attention.

“Lee Ai is making a room for you now. It will only take a moment. Please, will you join me for some tea until then?” I nodded. Cheng Meihui bowed once more and walked down the wooden outside floor to another part of the house, I assume the kitchen, to shortly bring us tea. We sat in a room nearby that he led me to. As we spoke, there came a noise outside and his smile returned, his face lighting in such a way. He motioned for me to be silent as he moved to it. Without warning, he flung it open, revealing the face of a rather beautiful young woman on the other side. 

Mine turned red.

I’d heard tales of falling in love at first sight but never believed it to be true until that moment.

She fell back. She glared up at her father and scolded him as Cheng Meihui had done earlier but he only laughed and helped her up. He caught her in an equally tight embrace. Except, instead of kissing her on the lips as he had done with his wife, he kissed her temple. She blushed. Her eyes widened. I’m sure our expressions were similar. Cheng spoke to her quickly, explaining who I was. After some time, she bowed as her mother had but jumped when the older woman appeared with the tea, snapping something at her. Cheng laughed and told her something again. She waited until both weren’t looking before sticking her tongue out at them and bowing to me one more time before leaving.

Cheng returned to his seat. “That was my daughter Cheng Sabine.” He scrutinized me up and down. “I hope you would be willing to talk to her during your visit. She asks me many questions of the foreign visitors and I am pleased by her inquisitive nature.” I nodded.

I was sure I was going to be very happy to help.

From there, time went by quickly. I spent most of it in the Cheng household primarily, learning from Lee Ai, the tight faced maid who was hesitant at first to teach a man but when I proved myself as not having any bad intentions, she partially relaxed. Partially. The woman was a demon when it came to proper techniques. When I wasn’t in the kitchen, I found myself often in the garden. It was peaceful and beautiful. Like the maid, I found Cheng Sabine hesitant to be around me at first but also like her, she warmed to me and even allowed me to look at the work she frequently did. I stared at the characters for such a long time. I couldn’t make sense of them. She only giggled and attempted to teach me how to read them. It didn’t go well. It went better when I taught her some French. She was a quick study and easily caught on even though she was not a professional or a natural. Within three months, we were speaking in short conversations.

“You travel far,” she stated. I smiled.

“Good try. The word you want is “travelled.” You travelled far.” She shook her head.

“Your language is confusing.”

“As is yours,” I returned, “it just depends on your living situation.” I leaned forward on the stone seating, my elbows resting on my knees. “That’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned; everywhere is the same but different. There’s so many different ways of living. One way alone just isn’t enough.” She smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“And you are a wise man for it.” I smiled at her.

We continued working for two more months on her French. She only grew stronger. I even managed to learn some symbols and words and basic conversation in hers; Lee Ai was impressed when I asked something in her tongue. 

One night, Cheng Bai and I were sitting down to dinner when a servant burst into the room. His face was twisted. Sweat covered his forehead. Clearly he had been running in the heat despite the weather starting to turn. Cheng almost shouted at him for his rudeness but he bowed and said something so fast, I wasn’t able to keep up. His face changed completely. It paled, eyes going wide, mouth parting. He stood. Asking if the servant was sure, he stepped towards him. The bowed man nodded. Cheng turned to me. I had not seen the man so fearful in his life. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Tom,” he practically begged, “I need your help.” I blinked but gathered myself. My heart was pounding.

“Of course. What can I do?”

Without hesitation, he told me quickly, “I need you to take my daughter and leave China.”


	5. Nino Lahiffe

The first time I met Marinette Dupain-Cheng, we were only about four years old. Our parents were good friends; it was easy to like Tom, a well natured man and his wife Sabine, a kind and gentle woman, who both shared in their love of baking and their daughter. I was a few months older than her. Mari greeted me at the door of the Dupain-Cheng bakery one day as I bought my first loaf of bread for my mother; she even told me I was a good boy and brave for doing it by myself. I beamed. It was one thing to hear such praise from your parents. A stranger made it seem all that better.

So I became a regular at the bakery.

Sabine would smile upon my entry and turn to the back door which led up to their main living area, “Marinette! Nino’s here to see you again!” 

I blushed. She only smiled and handed me a sweet bread while we waited for the sound of pattering feet to come from the upstairs area. Marinette emerged, wearing her signature pigtails in a brown dress I knew her mother had hand made for her. She smiled a toothy grin at me.

“Hi Nino!” She looked up at her mother. “Can I go play with Nino?”

“Only if he promises to help keep an eye on you,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss her head, “and you’re home before nightfall.”

“Yes Maman.” Her chubby hand grabbed my free one as I shoved the sweet into my mouth. “Bye Maman!”

“Bye Mrs. Cheng,” I called back. She waved from behind the counter as the door shut behind us. Marinette’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Despite being so small, the girl had a heart and fire that fueled it. She was an adventurer. Just like her father she told me often. She also told me stories sometimes of how her father had travelled the whole world (later I found out that was a little inaccurate) and how he met her mother and saved her from some bad people. Though, when she wasn’t telling me such stories, we were exploring. 

Or rather, she was exploring and I was trying to keep her from getting hurt.  
Marinette had a wild streak. She was all over the place. It didn’t take much to get her attention and often times, it was just a butterfly flying into the woods that started to lead her astray. I can’t even count how many times I had to pull her away from the forest’s edge.

Sadly, this behavior brought on a string of ill feelings from some of the other villagers.

Mari’s mother was foreign. It wasn’t often that a person like her appeared in our town; it was new and scary and the people reacted badly. I heard the whispers. Talks of “slanted eyes” and “demons” were everywhere. The talk only got worse when Marinette was born and the older she got, the more damaging it became. They called her all sorts of things. She was a strong girl. She never let the others see her cry and I did my best to protect her. I was in more than one scuffle in my life to defend her name but she always was sure to help me clean up the cuts and even snuck me some little sweets to help make me feel better. Her eyes never lost their brightness. 

There was just something special about Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Because of all the bullying we received, I for my skin color and her for her eyes, there was rarely a time when we were a part. It was even Mari who pushed me to learn to play the flûte douce. We’d seen a traveling performer when we were about six. The music was magical. It weaved stories we didn’t think were possible. We danced and played and had so much fun; the next night, I made a rough toy out of sticks and pretended to play while she danced and, to our surprise, my father pulled out his old one, handing it to me with a smile. I took it like a gift from the heavens. Mari encouraged me to practice. I didn’t have any music, didn’t have access to much really, but I practiced. My father taught me what he could but it had been years. The teaching was rough. When he was done, I ran to meet Mari and together, we snuck off to our forest hide-away to practice (I’d finally conceded to forest exploration once I felt we were old enough to handle ourselves). She watched with eagerness as I pulled out the wooden instrument, put it together with care, eventually raised it to my lips, and released the most god-awful screech ever. She covered her ears. I stopped playing immediately.

I rubbed my neck sheepishly, “I guess I need to practice.”

“That’s for sure,” she teased. “But you’ll be amazing once you do.” 

There was no doubt in my mind that my face turned red. “Really?”

“Really.” She said it was such conviction that I believed her. It started my late night practice sessions at least. I managed to find a way to sneak out of my house, taking my hard shoes with me out of town, hiding within the old house we had claimed as our own and played. Softly of course. Louder as I got older and was sure no one could hear me. I was a quick study. I learned to play the few notes I knew well and then I started composing; I made my own songs and had no shame in performing them in front of my parents’ house, usually gathering an audience. 

By the time I was ten, I was being requested to perform for major events.

It was a warm feeling I got in my stomach. To know that my talents and work were so valued made me feel giddy and Mari celebrated with me the first time I was asked to. I even gave her one of the gold coins I got. She refused at first but I insisted, “I’m only playing because of you Mari. Take this as my thanks.” 

Somehow, that convinced her.

She took the coin and placed it in her apron pocket. 

She never spent it on anything for herself as far as I know. I wouldn’t have expected any less of her.


	6. Tom Dupain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> I'm giving this chapter a warning. Tom is going to be speaking about Marinette's birth and inline to the AU I'm using, it's going to be a bit rough. No, there are no graphic details but I still wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wanted to skip this chapter. It doesn't damage your understanding of the story completely. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It seemed that the day Marinette was born signaled the beginning of our hard times.

Sabine found out she was pregnant a few years into our marriage. I was so happy. Our little family was growing and no matter what happened, or even what gender the child turned out to be, it was going to be the light of our lives. The bakery was flourishing. My parents, God rest them, retired upon my return from the East and they moved out to the country to enjoy a simpler life. We sent a letter announcing Sabine’s pregnancy but it was sadly returned, informing us, in an attached letter from a neighbor, of their deaths of a disease that had ravaged their village. A lot of the older people, and babes, didn’t make it. I cried that night. She stayed by my side, rubbing my shoulders until I managed to fall asleep.

She wore a beautiful white dress in their honor the next day. 

Despite the loss, everything else was progressing well. Sabine experienced no complications in the months leading up to Marinette’s birth. Even so, I was still worried. She was a small woman but when I considered having her see a midwife regularly, she merely patted my hand and assured me it wasn’t necessary. 

During one of the warmer months, we decided to take a walk in the forest. The movement seemed to help her pains. I took a basket. I was in need of new herbs anyway so our traveling had a dual purpose. We didn’t go far. The dirt road leading from town extended South far past the dense forest but we did not follow it all the way; we turned at one point to head inwards, searching through the dimly lit area for the herbs I needed. It was such a peaceful day. A gentle breeze brushed the tree tops, causing them to rustle high above us. Little creatures scuffled about the brushes, avoiding our feet and hands.

Sabine hissed at one point. I turned to find her hand on her back and her expression was twisted. I moved to her side.

“Are you alright?”

She smiled weakly up at me. “Just a little pain. Nothing unusual.” That didn’t stop my face from paling.

“Is it the baby?”

“Yes but- ah!” Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm, as she wobbled. I caught her. She attempted to ease her pain by pressing her lower back and rubbing circles. I was nearly sick to my stomach. 

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong with our baby.

“We- we need to get you home,” I stammered, “I need to get the midwife.” She only nodded. The words seemed to be stuck in her throat by a scream. Not letting go of her, we started walking back the way we’d come from only to have our path cut off by a clap of thunder followed by a sudden down pour.

Sabine screamed.

Desperate, I looked around and discovered an abandoned shack. Even if it wasn’t, we were out of options. The ground had practically disappeared from underneath our feet, our visibility was nothing at this point, and her pain was growing. I pushed her towards it. We were panting once we shoved our way in. The room wasn’t the coziest place in the world; dust rested everywhere, the roof leaked in places and it was clear that a couple of animals had made this their home but had since moved on. Sabine still clung to me but she was nearly doubled over.

I paled even more when she moaned, “The baby’s coming!” She started panting. Shortly after we were married and she had announced to me her pregnancy, she sat me down and explained her people’s traditions for a birth and it pained me to leave but I respected what she valued. A husband was not to be with his wife at the time of birth. She tried to explain the reasoning. I didn’t catch most of it as she had slipped back to her native tongue in her embarrassment; I didn’t ask for clarity once we were more comfortable with each other. I turned to leave. She didn’t let me go. “Don’t,” she panted. I blinked and my heart nearly dropped out of my chest. Something was wrong. Desperately so. This was serious since the moment the word left her mouth broke one of the most important traditions she had explained to me. My mouth went dry. I couldn’t control the shaking of my frame. She squeezed my arm again, “T-Tom….” I nodded but let her go for a moment, leaning her a bit against a wall, while I attempted to clean some of the dirt away from a spot on the floor. Water was not a problem at this moment.

There wasn’t much time. I laid the vest I wore out to give her somewhere to rest. She undid her apron to give me. I bundled it. Helping her down, I placed it under her head. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe it for her.

Sabine groaned louder. Gripping my arm once more, she panted, “You will have… have to help me.”

My stomach twisted violently, “I can go get the midwife….” My knowledge of giving birth was limited. I was a baker! 

“There’s no time! It’s coming! Now!” She squeezed harder. “Tom….” A lash of pain stopped her words, turning it into a scream. I had no choice. Her reactions were severe enough that I knew that I didn’t have two hours to navigate my way through the down pour to bring the midwife. She was right. I was going to have to help.

I took a steadying breath. She screamed again, clutching at me and the vest beneath her. I moved to get a clearer view of what was occurring. I could see a bit of the child and took a sharp breath.

The feet were coming first.

My mother’s own face flashed in my mind. She would tell me every now and then about my own birth and how I had started to come feet first but the midwife somehow got me to turn. I’d asked why that was important. She’d only kissed my head and replied, “A babe should always see the world before they can run in it.”

I swore. “The babe’s feet are coming first Sabine. I need to get the midwife.” She didn’t respond. Instead, my answer came in the way of more moans, groans, and screams. Fear shot through me. Without anything else, I placed my hand on her stomach, praying, “Please, little one, please. Turn yourself around.” Don’t die on us….

A crack of thunder barely drowned out another of her screams.

Sabine bucked, stretching and groaning under my hand. I moved to wipe her brow again and wished I had a container to collect the water in. Her screams were almost constant now. The child was very close. It had to be. I moved back and relief washed over me when I realized that I was now staring at the top of its head. “I can see the head! Push Sabine, push!” The muscles on her stomach quivered at my news. Screams turned to grunts. More of the head appeared and I placed my hands underneath it to catch the child that seemingly just slipped out from there.

Sabine’s screams were quickly replaced by her cries.

It seemed that the world went quiet except for her cries. Sabine no longer screamed and the storm seemed to disappear in an instant, sunshine entering the holes through the roof, and all that remained were the birds, our desperate gasps for air, and the child’s crying. I held my daughter for some minutes without moving. My wife reached into her apron, pulling out a delicate silver chain with a weak order to put it around her neck. I took a quick look at it. The charm was of a large white bear. An ours polaire. A thing of legend in this part of the world but told in stories by grand travelers who sometimes came to our city. Maybe it had been fate that had brought Sabine to that charm for she had bought it only a week previous from a vendor only because she was in need of a necklace to place around her neck upon her birth. I did as ordered. From there, she directed me in cutting the cord that united babe and mother; when that was completed, I gently handed her to her and she cooed to her, kissing her forehead. She spoke softly in her native tongue.

I started to clean us up a bit. When that was done, the bloody clothing replacing the herbs in my basket, I took the child from her so she could rest for the return trip home. The child had settled by then and her eyes, narrowed at the corners like her mother’s but wider like mine, stared up at me. They were a brilliant sky shade. Her hair was dark, skin a pleasant medium. She was a beautiful child. My heart swelled in that moment. I was sure I would never love anything more than I did in that instance.

“You should name her,” Sabine told me. I looked up, surprised. She was softly staring at us.

“Can I?” She nodded. “What of your traditions?”

“Many of my traditions have already been broken,” she whispered. “Maybe the gods have abandoned me or they have simply lost me.” My heart shattered. Her hurt was real and fresh every day she woke in a strange land without news of her own family. Years had passed though. We had no idea if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what to say. 

Instead, I moved closer to her and kissed her forehead. We stayed like that for several minutes before I pulled back with a breathy sigh.

“Her name will be Marinette.” She smiled, brushing her hair off her forehead.

“A beautiful name. It fits her home.”

“Yes, yes it does.” I kissed her again. “Rest love. We’ll leave once your strength returns.” She nodded, lying back on her make-shift bed, closing her eyes.  
Marinette cooed in my arms. Looking down, I felt something stir as our eyes met; hers were bright and wide, as if she was aware of the world around her. She was special. I knew it. As I kissed her forehead, like I had her mother’s, I just prayed that Sabine’s gods didn’t judge her for the circumstances of her birth and that being special only brought her goodness in her life.


	7. Alya Césaire

My mother became an overnight sensation with travelers from France. Our home, the island of Martinique, had been colonized in 1640, some years before her rise in fame; it was odd to say the least. My mother had worked for years as the main chef of a French man who owned a lavish mansion and was known to host regal parties for other rich people from the main country. They complimented the food even before they knew the color of my mother’s skin. Even when it was revealed, the compliments didn’t stop. Word traveled back to France and before we knew it, she was being offered a rather well-paying job, a home, and all sorts of other good things just to have her move there to cook. I knew my parents were torn over the idea. However, when they discovered she was pregnant with the twins, moving was so important. I knew my own birth had been hard on her. France had better doctors. It was just safer to move there. I tried to make sense of everything but it was hard and confusing. The whole thing made me angry and bitter; I remember hugging my friends good bye and climbing up the large wooden plank of the ship that took us, for weeks, away from our Island. I turned six on a rocking sea. We weren’t able to even have a celebratory dinner.

I grew worse with each passing day on that ship.

I didn’t want to leave Martinique. I had wanted to stay more than anything but my parents tried to explain that this was really important for Maman. 

It didn’t make me feel any better.

The journey felt impossibly long even though it only took a month. We landed in one country and took smaller boats from there. The lands were strange. It seemed that the further North we moved, the grayer the world became. As did the clothing. The people seemed to lose their color and they became harsher. The language seemed that way too. 

I hated it. 

I tried not to let my parents see how mad I was at it. It was really hard and I knew I failed. Maman’s face often twisted when it came to me and years later, I found out that she frequently wondered if moving to France had been the right thing for her to do to me.

Yes, Maman, yes. It was.

Eventually it came to an end. We finally arrived at our new home. It wasn’t a spectacular building but it was bigger than the hut we’d had on the Island. It was gray, accented by brown and a roof decorated with some kind of hard tile.

It was duller than home.

Everything was worse.

It took my parents nearly a week to get me out of my room; it took another to get me to go outside. It thankfully was a sunny day. My skin felt warm for the first time. Maman took my hand. We were going to the market which became one of my new favorite areas since it reminded me of the market at home. I didn’t look at the people around me. My focus was on the fruits.

Someone tugged on my sleeve. Turning, I found a slanted-eyed, dark haired girl, about my age, smiling up at me, a cookie offered in an out stretched hand. Her voice was high pitched, “I’m Marinette! My Maman and Papa made this special for me but you look like you could use it.”

I hesitated. Her hand didn’t fall. Finally, I took it. It was sweet and still warm like it had just come from the oven. My mother appeared. Bending down, she smiled at Marinette, “Oh? And who is this?”

“I’m Marinette,” she chirped. 

“Marinette? What a lovely name,” she beamed, “I’m Marlena. I see you met my daughter Alya. Do you live around here?” She nodded, her pigtails bobbing, pointing to a nearby building.

“My parents own that bakery.”

“How nice!” She turned to me. “Why don’t we stop by and see what they have for sale?” I took her hand, nodding without a word. My eyes stayed glued to the ground. I was sure there was a soft blush on my face. All three of us headed that way. She opened the door, excitedly leading us inside.

“Maman,” she cheered, running behind the counter. An equally slanted-eyed woman with a wide face and equal dark hair greeted her with a smile. She scooped her up. Placing a kiss on her cheek caused Marinette to giggle. She pointed to us, “Look Maman! I brought friends!” The older woman raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” She smiled at us. “Hello there. I’m Sabine Dupain-Cheng.”

“Marlena Césaire. This is my daughter Alya.” She pushed me forward and I greeted her with a nervous smile and wave.

She placed Marinette down but stayed at eye level with me. A wide smile broke on her face. It made the nervousness flee from my body and I found myself enchanted by such a foreign face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you dear,” she softly cooed to me.

“It’s- It’s a pleasure madame.” 

Sabine returned to face Maman. “You must be new to Paris.”

“Yes,” she informed her, “Fresh from the Island of Martinique.” Her eyes seemed to spark with knowledge. 

“Martinique? The Island that the new port was put in?”

“The very one.” Sabine nodded. It seemed that some unspoken words of kinship passed between the two of them; whatever it was, it made them close and as the years passed, Sabine and Maman found comfort in each other often, standing strong against the ills that plagued them for not being pure French. The looks they shared didn’t last long. The smile eventually returned to our hostess’ face.

“Your trip must have been long and tiring.” Another, brighter look passed her face and she asked us to wait a moment while she disappeared in the back. She returned with some fresh baguettes wrapped in a cloth. “If you ever need any help, please, let us know. My husband and I would be more than happy to do what we can.” Maman nodded.

“Thank you Madame Dupain-Cheng.” She waved a hand.

“We are friends now. Sabine will do just fine.” Maman smiled.

“Sabine then. Thank you, again.” She nudged me. “You should thank someone too hum?” I blinked. It took a minute before I realized she wanted me to thank Marinette. For the cookie. 

I shuffled forward, eyes still mostly downward cast. Eventually I held out my hand, like I’d seen my father do sometimes when he was doing business, and said, “Thank you Marinette.” 

It seemed forever before my hand was grabbed. Gently. Hers were soft. I looked up and realized she was smiling at me, a wide toothy grin, “You’re welcome Alya.” I could feel my heart swelling at those words. Maman broke the moment by placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Come along Alya. I’ll need to start dinner soon. Your father will be home by then.” I nodded. Releasing Marinette, I took Maman’s hand and we said our final good-byes, finally walking out the door. 

“Bye Alya,” Marinette waved. “Let’s play together soon! Okay?”

I waved back excitedly in agreement. It wasn’t Martinique but, for the first time in weeks, I was smiling and was beginning to think that this new place wasn’t so bad after all.


	8. Alya Césaire

Not long after we arrived in Paris, the twins were born thanks to the aid of the best midwife in the country and Maman couldn’t have been any happier. Her job was soaring. Her little ones were healthy. She was in a home much bigger than the one we’d had on the Island and Père was working for a big shipping company, moving animals of all shapes and sizes. Life couldn’t seem to be any better.

Soon after meeting the spunky Marinette, I basically returned to myself. The traveling and homesickness had worn me down, made me shy and insecure and bitter, but her brightness, and subsequent sweets, that helped to bring me back to the loud, rambunctious, and energetic person that I was. She introduced me to a majority of the kids in the area but it was surprisingly Nino the one I was most attracted to. We looked similar with darker skin than most of the people around us. I found him to be an easy spirit. An Island spirit. He reminded me a lot of the boys from home. All of us were drawn together and it was a friendship made for life.

We spent a lot of those days exploring the forest South of our home. Our adventures were grand. We were knights and climbers, travelers across the whole world. As we grew, our talents began to diverge which made our imaginary travels even more fun.

Nino became skilled at music. We rarely went without it. 

Marinette made rough costumes on her loom. They weren’t complete most times but they gave us something real to use.

I provided the stories.

Sometimes our play would stop as the two of them listened to what I had to say. They claimed my stories were riveting. Better than some travelers. I blushed.

“Keep going,” Marinette encouraged.

“But they’re… made-up.”

“And? A lot of stories are,” Nino assured me. 

“But I don’t know that much.”

“You can always learn!”

“But how?” Marinette thought for a moment before jumping up with a cheer.  
Holding out her hand, she said, “Let’s make a promise! One day we’ll all travel together. We’ll go all over the place! Meets all sorts of people! Then we come home, we’ll do amazing things!” 

It took us a moment. We smiled, knowing that what she had done was retell her father’s story with our own. Nino finally stood with her. “I like it.” He put a hand on hers and the two of them stared at me. My smile grew wider.

“Oh, why not.” I joined them, my heart pounding like crazy. “The only rule is that we have to do it all together.” They looked at each other before nodding their heads.

“Of course,” she assured me.

We bobbed our hands in agreement.

We were six.

If only we had known the events that would later affect us all, breaking this promise nearly for good.


	9. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I was a restless child.

My husband would say that I’m still a restless person but it was much worse during my youth. My parents learned early on to keep dangerous items high out of my reach; in the end, it did no good. I still found ways to get a hold of such items. They learned instead to keep a very, very, very close eye on me.  
They hoped that as I aged, it would get better. It didn’t. My heart longed for adventure, to go into the world and find all of its secrets just like my father. If anything, I could easily blame him for my nature. He filled me with stories of places like India and China and Italy which made me then want to see them for myself. Despite how she felt about my adventurous behavior, Maman never stopped him. I found out why she never did years later. Really, it was that traveler’s spirit that had brought them together and she hoped that one day, I too would find a love like theirs; plus, the stories reminded her constantly of the home she would never get to see again. It was wonderful to hear them through the eyes of a person who had gotten the chance to enjoy its beauty. 

It was heartbreaking to say the least.

I really don’t think I was that bad; sitting still was not an option for me. I had to move. Had to explore. Nino often times found himself unwillingly attached to those explorations. He followed me wherever I went. A lot of the time it was just to keep me safe like the time he dragged me out of a field of sheep with a nasty tempered dog and when he caught me falling out of the limbs of a fruit tree I had climbed for fun. 

Surprisingly, only one thing got me to sit still. It was an accidental discovery. One night, when I was around four or five, Papa was telling me one of his stories in our smile family room. It was winter. The fire place was roaring as he held me in his lap, my head bobbing up and down to fight off sleep. Maman sat across from us, a pair of Papa’s pants in her hands with a hole that had been torn there getting caught on something in the kitchen, and she only smiled at the tale, every now and then nodding in agreement or in an amused no. I couldn’t fight it anymore. My eyes drooped. When they opened again, I was shocked. The hole in the pants was gone! My heart pounded. I slid from my father’s grasp and toddled over to Maman, staring at the cloth, “Where did it go?” My parents shared a look. “The hole,” I slurred, “Where did it go?” She smiled at me.

“I fixed it.” I stared up at her.

“Do it again.”

She petted my hair. “I’m afraid I can’t right now ma petite. How about I show you something just as spectacular tomorrow, after you get some rest?” Tired, I nodded. She gave me a kiss on the forehead before I was hoisted up by Papa and carted up to my room for the night.

Weaving and sewing were completely surprising hobbies that gave my parents some reprieve from my wandering. Not from the injuries though. I made it a habit to put as many holes in my finger while making my clothes. At first. Over the years, I became less bloody and more accurate with my work. Eventually, I even surpassed Maman. According to her. Nino and Alya agreed and the thrill of being praised only encouraged me to keep going and even further. I made dresses and shirts, pants for my father. Maman received a new apron from me one year and she still wears it to this day, the last time I checked.

My parents were not rich. While it was true that we were better off than most others, it didn’t mean we were extravagant. They bought me what they could. Sometimes it was a full bag of wool. Other times it was half.  
In subsequent years, it was even less.

They tried to not let me see how badly things were getting. Business began to dry up. I heard them talking in hushed whispers about how some people in Paris were even losing their homes. 

I was young. I was fearless.

I was foolish.

Those concerns did not bother me as they should have.

That was until I saw the frowns on their faces. They were beginning to really worry about the future of the bakery. It broke my heart. My grandparents had done so much to build the business up and I knew it meant a lot to Papa; if it were taken, I don’t know what he would have done. At the age of ten, I decided to put my talents to work. I managed to catch the eye of some of the wealthier people in Paris. They commissioned me for such things as undergarments and simple eloquent dresses that they could use in the privacy of their homes and that provided me with enough coin to keep weaving, to buy new drawing materials to practice new designs, but, most of all, to slip a little into the family coffers in case of an emergency. This only did so much sadly and it just wasn’t enough.

By the time I was officially nineteen years of age, there was simply no way to ignore the hardships we were having.


	10. Polar Bear

Thoughts are hard.  
Brain… Fuzzy.  
My skin is heavy.  
Was not always so.

I travel.  
It helps with the pain and boredom.  
I remember.  
Green.  
A ball.

Memories of long ago.

Nearly forgotten.


	11. Nino Lahiffe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! ^..^ I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I had a lot of fun writing it!
> 
> I'm back again with another completely awesome link from paladin-of-fandoms who drew an amazing comic-book page of a couple of scenes in this chapter. Please be sure to check it out!
> 
> https://paladin-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/private/168404780191/tumblr_p0rl33KlcF1w4iljr
> 
> Enjoy!

Alya and I have a secret. A big one. Even after the events that have happened to all of us, I have found myself unable to confess to Mari or her parents about that day.

I will admit it here.

We’ve agreed to not read each person’s part.

But… just in case… I’m sorry, Mari, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.

Here it is: Marinette was rescued by a Polar Bear.

It was a rather snowy day during our thirteenth year. My family was preparing for dinner when there came an incestuous knock on our door. Maman opened it to the twisted, worried face of Sabine Cheng. She started speaking quickly, reverting to her native tongue in desperation to explain her situation but as none of us knew it, we had no way of answering. Instead, she was invited in and given a seat by our fire. Père handed her some broth which seemed to help calm her down, enough, at least to help her reclaim her French.

“Thank-you,” she breathed. Maman took the cup while he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“What’s happened Sabine,” he asked, “Is something wrong?” Her face was pale. She nodded.

“Yes! It’s Marinette.” Her eyes turned on me, “Have you seen her?”

I shook my head, “Not since yesterday Madame.” Tears came to her eyes. She buried her face in her hands; sobs shook her shoulders and Maman rubbed them.

When she was calm enough again, the answer we got was chilling, “She hasn’t come home! She always comes home by now!”

“Then let’s not waste time,” Père ordered. “Let’s go. We’ll help you and Tom look.”

“He is speaking to the Césaires. They will help as well.”

“We must be quick. This weather is dangerous for anyone caught in it.” Maman wrapped her arms around the other woman.

“Don’t worry,” she assured her, “Marinette is a strong and smart girl. She will be alright.” Sabine smiled at her.

“Thank-you.” 

We left our uneaten meal on our table, bundled ourselves as much as possible, and took off for the bakery. The wind was freezing. Snow covered our lashes and on the exposed portions of our skin. The cobblestones were treacherous; one wrong step was enough to twist an ankle or send us into the ground. We went as slow as we dared. Five minutes later, Sabine was pushing the door of her home open for us and all quickly moved upstairs to gather around the main fireplace as she lit it. Alya’s family lived further out. It would take them longer to arrive so we warmed ourselves until then, eating the day bread that was offered. She slid me an extra bun. Growing boy and all that. A few moments later, Tom and the others showed up. Embraces were shared. I eventually found myself holding Alya’s hand to calm myself; she shook too and we squeezed, trying to reassure the other that everything was going to be alright. She shot me a weak smile.

Tom dusted the snow from his shoulders, “No one’s seen her since this morning. She must have left the city at some point.”

“Where would she go,” Marlena asked. Their eyes turned to us. I shook my head but Alya bit her lip.

“She likes the forest south of here. There’s an old hut we sometimes hang out in down there, it’s….”

“I know where it is,” Tom cut in. The Césaires, Maman, Père, and both of the Dupain-Chengs started to put on their coats but Tom stopped Sabine, whispering something to her but he appropriately stopped talking when her expression shifted. It was sharp. Her eyes sparkled with defiance.

“I am not,” she hissed, “staying. She is my daughter too. I will help find her.”

“But….”

She turned on us. Alya squeezed my hand out of fear and rightly so. In the past, she had told the three of us of stories of her people’s version of dragons, about how powerful and revered they were, and in that moment, it was easy to see how she was the embodiment of one of them. “Nino, Alya, can you two please wait here incase Marinette comes back?” Her voice dripped in ice. It was a slow anger she avoided directing at us but we still felt its effects.

I cleared my throat to speak. “Of course Mrs. Cheng.” She smiled, patting my cheek before turning and hugging Alya. Tom came up with her coat. He knew there was no point in arguing; Sabine was going to win one way or another. I recognized the coat. Marinette had made it as one of her earliest projects and it was made of an excellent material she’d saved a long time for. Once they were ready, they set off into the storm.

But all was not well at the bakery.

Alya was like a caged animal. She moved back and forth, trying to see into the storm through the few windows available. Time seemed to pass slowly. The fire that had been started, died, casting us into near darkness until I lit one of the lanterns. Eventually, she stopped. 

“Nino, Mari didn’t go South.” I blinked.

“What? If she didn’t go to the hut, then where…?”

She paused, lost in thought. “I think she went North.” Her demeanor changed suddenly. She moved quickly, gathering her things before rushing down the stairs and out into the cold. This left me to run after her, grabbing the lantern and shutting the door behind us. The wind had died but our breathes still came out in white puffs; I tucked my free hand under my arm.

“Alya, wait,” I called.

“She told me last week about a lake,” she returned, defiantly not stopping, “That she wanted to try playing on. I told her we shouldn’t because the weather just turned cold and it might not be safe yet.” She tripped. I tried to catch her but she merely stumbled, letting out an unladylike word, but continued on. “She wanted to go so badly and I….”

“Alya,” I grabbed her hand. Stopping her, I made her turn so she was facing me. I could see the tears in her eyes. I was shocked. Alya never cried. Then I did for her what I’d seen my dad do for my mom several times: I cupped her face, pulled it down a bit, and placed a gentle kiss there. When we broke apart, she looked calmer even though her eyes were wide. I smiled. Taking her hand, I whispered, “It’s not your fault Alya. Mari was going to go one way or another. You know how she is.” She sniffed.

“But I could’ve been with her.”

“And that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be looking for the two of you,” I emphasized. She bit her lip and looked down. “Don’t worry. We will find her.” I nodded down the road. “Lead the way. I’ll follow.”

She squeezed my hand but didn’t let go. We traveled north for a bit, climbing over an old stone fence, passing through a less dense forest than the one South of the city. The wind rose and fell in waves. It bit into our exposed skin, putting a reddish hue to our noses and cheeks. We called for Mari. There was no response. My heart raced. I knew Alya’s did too by the way she squeezed my hand, tightening after each call, in vain hope that she would answer that one. It never was. Eventually our journeying brought us to a small cliff, only a few meters high, overlooking a rather beautiful lake. We had traveled some distance from home; it was no wonder I had never been to this pot. We dropped to our knees, straining to see into the darkness.

“We have to go closer,” I noted.

She nodded. The lantern was able to cast its light all the way to the base of the cliff. It was low enough that we decided to swing our legs over and slide down. I slid first. Rocks and roots of the trees above cut into my skin in various places, causing them too ooze a bit with blood a bit. I hissed once I stopped. I turned, holding my arms out to catch Alya as she followed. She thanked me once she was down. Dusting off her skirt, she took hold of my free hand as we made our way around the edge of the lake.

A few minutes later, she gasped, “Nino!”

But I saw it too. 

The light carried itself some distance ahead of us and in the gloom of the night we saw it. It nearly glowed. Its fur was pure white. Black eyes and nose met us as it turned its face in our direction. In its teeth, clutched by the neck of her dress, was an unconscious Marinette.

I pushed Alya behind me but my own hand shook at the sight. The creature stood, on all fours, it would easily be at the shoulder height of a man but I was even surer than on its back legs alone, it would clear me by four or five head-spans. It was a creature of stories I knew; the travelers form the North often shared tales of huge, four legged creatures made to survive in the cold. They called it an ours polaire. A polar bear.

We were too far south.

We shouldn’t be staring one down.

Least of all, it shouldn’t have Marinette in between its teeth.

“Nino,” she whispered. I looked back. Her eyes were just as wide as mine but they never left it. “Nino, is Mari…?”

I turned back. She didn’t finish the question but I hoped the answer was no. Suddenly, it turned, lumbering to us as it held Mari high, her feet barely brushing the ground. We staggered back a few times. It stopped just short of us.

We watched in utter amazement as it dropped its head, slowly and carefully, laying Marinette on the ground in front of us. Then, with no other indication, it turned and disappeared without a sound. We waited. Once we were sure it wasn’t coming back, we ran to her side. Alya dropped her head first to her face then chest, releasing a sigh of relief. “She’s breathing,” she informed me. My shoulders slumped.

“Thank goodness! We need to get her back home though; it looks like she fell in the water. It’s not even frozen over!” Alya’s face twisted.

“But Mari says it was last week….”

“We had a couple of warm days, “I cut her off, “It could have easily melted it enough.”

“Yeah or the big white bear did,” she snapped. I flinched. “You can’t just ignore what we saw Nino.”

“Yes I can,” I pushed through my teeth.

“It obviously wasn’t an ordinary bear. Did you see the way it behaved? What if it was a magical bear or a spirit?”

“This isn’t one of your stories Alya. Magic, real magic, doesn’t exist!” Before she could respond, Mari groaned between us, her eyes fluttering a bit and she moved to help her sit up. Mari shivered.

“Alya… Nino,” she murmured weakly, “I’m sorry.”

“You had us worried Mari,” I whispered, brushing some hair off of her forehead. “Just rest. We’ll get you home soon.” I put the lantern down and turned, offering my back. Alya helped position her there, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders. Her wet clothes dampened my own. Alya took the lantern.

“What are we going to tell them,” I asked. She blinked. “We can’t tell the adults that a polar bear, of all things, saved her from drowning. They’ll send us to the asylum.” That made her pause. My face softened. “At worse they’ll think it is one of your stories but we still need something more reasonable to tell them.” I knew she wanted to share the real story; that’s just the kind of person Alya is: honest, nearly to a fault. However, the realization finally came to her. Her eyes shifted, becoming duller in the lantern light and she licked her lips.

She gave me our story, “We can say we found Mari lying on the bank after she managed to pull herself from the ice.” I nodded.

“Alright. Let’s head back. They’re probably back and worried about where we are too.” She said nothing. Holding the lantern higher, she guided our way back home. We were met by Tom, Père, and Otis at the edge of the city. Tom slid his daughter off of my back, carrying her home and we were ushered quickly inside the bakery where the fire was already relit; Sabine gave us warm drinks and Maman covered us in blankets. Marlena kissed Alya’s forehead.

As expected, they asked for the story once Marinette was secured in her bed. We explained it as agreed. The bear was never mentioned.

The adults bought it. They claimed her survival was due to luck and it alone.

Marinette, surprisingly, confirmed our story two days later when she finally awoke. The doctor gave her a thorough once over. Her injuries were mostly bumps and bruises that were able to heal quickly; he recommended though that she remain in bed and rest for the remainder of the week. When he left, she told us that she had attempted to go on the water but fell through, and after that, she couldn’t remember much before waking up at home. She thanked Alya and I for saving her. For bringing her home. She gave us both a giant grin and hug.

The polar bear was never brought up again.

Alya and I made an agreement then and there: We were never going to mention the odd circumstances of her rescue to anyone.

It became our bounding secret, forever.


	12. Polar Bear

Skin is wrong.  
Too tight.  
Too warm.  
I travel to ease the pain.

Some days it is bearable.  
Others it’s not.

Water feels good.  
It clears my mind a bit.  
Thoughts return.

I am awake.

There are eyes.  
Beautiful sky-eyes.  
Smiling.  
Happy.  
Unafraid.  
She does not ear me.  
A hand comes for me.

She is gone.

There is a splash.  
Ripples.  
Falling.  
Sinking.

Not swimming.

I grab her.   
Gently.  
Behind the neck.  
By the dress.

Surface.  
Air, cold.  
We climb from the water.  
She coughs.  
Then stills.  
My heart pounds.

Two more, male, female, appear.  
They stare.  
They fear.

I give her back.  
Watching as they leave.

My chest feels warm.

Beautiful sky.


	13. Chloé Bourgeois

Time travels rather slowly for long-lived creatures like trolls.

Living so long makes everything rather dull.

The common folk of my people see no problems with their lives. Of course not. I give them everything they need but their lives are short compared to mine; they live for only a hundred years and it is comical to see how their infantile minds fathom even the lowest of tasks as exciting. I am their queen. My family, generations of Bourgeois, have long since mastered the magic to slow our aging. My father lived to be nearly a thousand years old until he simply couldn’t sustain the magic any longer. It has been two hundred years since his death and my reign began. At first it was all that managed to thrill me but then it too grew old. Repetitive.

That seemed to be the way of the people of ice.

Our kingdom is located North, far more than any mortel would dream of coming and those that did were merely fed the slop and made into our servants. They took care of tasks even the trolls were snobbish to take on. They built our city, out of stone and ice. It sparkled like everything else in this forsaken place. Only the palace was further laced with materials like gold, silver, and green stones. Emeralds the mortels called them. They casted a pleasant glow about the rooms they resided in when the never ending sun was at its highest. 

They reminded me of his eyes.

Of the one under my father’s requirements.

Of the one who would end my boredom soon.


	14. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The bakery was everything to us. When things started to get really bad, we were afraid that there was going to be no other option for us but to leave it behind and move to something. It broke my heart. Papa had known nothing else in his life; he was always a baker and would always be one. At night, my parents talked in hushed whispers but I was now old enough to worry alongside them and I did, in secret, in my room or, if I was sharing, it was to Nino and Alya in secret in our hidden hovel in the woods. They tried to assure me as best as they could. Nino sometimes offered me coin from his performances in the city but I always figured out how to sneak it back to him. It was a lovely thought. I didn't want him to suffer with us though.

I tried to help make ends meet when I could. I got into the habit of really looking for sheep's wool wherever I could, picking it off old fences and out of briars, to continue my weaving and sewing. I sold some of my dresses and other designs to the richer people. I did very well. Within a month, I had enough to ensure that we, at least, were going to be able to purchase the things we needed to keep making our pastries.

When I was fifteen, it wasn't just the bakery that started to give me pause for concern. The other kids in town started to act... funny. Cruel. They started calling me a "slanted-eye whore" and "unwanted" and "foreign bitch," things I'd heard from their parents, things I had heard for years but had been too carefree to worry about.

Now I did.

The stress was piling on. Some days, it felt like I had to hold my breath just to get through one day and when the crops started to die, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to keep it together. Wheat stopped growing. The mills stopped making flour. Fruits and other vegetables seemed to grow scarce. Like everything else, it was slow to appear and the real painful months occurred when I turned nineteen but, as I am not there in my story yet, I will return to the year when I was fifteen because that was the most important time for me.

Especially because I really saw it.

The ours polaire.

I know we promised to not read each other's words but my eyes had caught Nino's story. Sorry Nino.

And for the record, I'm not mad at you. I probably would have done the same thing.

The children's cruelty, people I used to call friends, made it hard to stay in the city for long periods of time; eventually, I returned to the forest and often times, it was even without Alya and Nino. I knew they meant well. I knew. Especially after the whole water incident two years prior but even they were beginning to be a little over bearing. The forest was peaceful and soft. It didn't judge me or call me names that it knew would string and hurt as much as possible. My time there was wonderful. I enjoyed feeling the sun in the warmer months on my skin and relished in dipping my bare feet into the cool creeks, admiring the little animals that lived around there. Sometimes I picked what ingredients I could find and bring them back to the bakery. My parents didn't ask where I'd gotten them. There was a silent understanding between us that knew about the other kids, and even Nino and Alya, and while they had verbally asked me not to return to the lake north of town, they had said nothing of the forest just to the South. It was our mutual ground.

To make it more of an adventure, I would sometimes imagine that I was running through the bamboo forest of my mother's youth even though I had never seen them. Her stories, when Papa was away, were just as vivid as his but there was a much more... lonely tone to hers. She missed her home. I knew it.

She would tell me about the bamboo and large, dangerous animals like the tiger, a cat with black stripes and orange fur and, occasionally, a taste for lost humans. My favorite animal to hear about was the da xiong mao. When she would tell me, she would seem to grow, raising her arms above my head which caused a series of giggles to rise out of my throat until she brought them down, to my sides, tickling me. I loved the pandas so much.

One time, while I was in the forest, I was pretending as I had sometimes done. I wasn't paying attention. I wandered, running from a tiger, flying with the spirits of the wind, jumping creeks and dodging trees until I found myself in a little clearing some distance in. I panted hard. My chest heaved in and out. I brushed my hair down. It was small. I could see the dense forest on all sides, seemingly making a perfect circle for the area to grow. A little creek ran through one side. It was soft and babbling. I stepped from the shadows of the tree line and felt my eyes go wide. I had to rub them. I couldn't be seeing what I was seeing? Right?

At first I thought it was a panda I saw.

Then I realized it was pure white and much bigger than my mother had described to me.

I remembered the stories of the travelers and, instantly, my mind shot to their stories and the name: ours polaire. A polar bear.

The creature was curled up, seemingly sunning himself, but he shifted when he heard me approaching. His head shot up. My breath caught. Like the panda, the travelers had described this bear as being dangerous, deadly to humans. My mind spun. We were too far south! It was too warm for them! They needed frigid environments to survive. It was the middle of summer at this point. Way too hot. I froze in place as it turned its face on me.

My heart skipped a beat.

It was an odd sensation, a limbo of sorts we entered as we stared each other down. Its eyes and nose were black but they weren't those of a dumb animal; there was so much more there and it started to draw me in. I took a step forward. I was no longer afraid.

The bear was having none of that though. It let out a rough breath, a grunt, and stood, forcing me to stop where I was but it didn't approach me; instead, it turned, lumbering slowly away.

"Wait," I called. It didn't listen. It continued to the forest line. My legs were so small compared to it and before I could reach the spot where it had gone, it had disappeared. My breathing was heavy again. I frowned. I had dreamed it? No. I was very lucid. I was awake. I knew what I had seen. Excitement rose in my throat and I wanted nothing more than to share what I had found with Nino and Alya so, I turned, running back through the forest to the hidden hut and, luckily found the two of them there. We had made some repairs ourselves over the years. We'd cleaned out the animal nests and patched the roof, stashing some blankets and other clothes that I managed to weave and weren't able to sell. There was a table for Alya's writing (something we'd taken from a grouchy old man who was just going to throw it out) and there was a chest to store whatever instrument Nino was learning. The outside still looked deserted but we promised to not leave any real valuables here in case anyone might wander in looking for shelter. I had to look bad from their reaction. Nino pulled his flute from his lips, stopping the music in an instant. Alya's head shot up from where she was deep in concentration over a new piece of writing and she stood upon seeing me, coming to wrap her arms around my shoulders and leading me over to one of the chairs. Nino brought me a cup of water. I thanked him and drank deep. When I could speak again, I breathed, "I just saw the most amazing thing ever you two!" They shared a look. Alya smiled at me amused.

"Oh? What was that?"

My grin grew larger, "A polar bear! I saw a real life polar bear!" I wasn't ready for their reaction. Both of them grew pale and they shared look but this one was clearly panicked. Nino grabbed my shoulders a bit roughly.

"No you didn't," he asserted. "You must have been dreaming."

"I wasn't! I really saw it."

"Of course you did," Alya assured me. "Mari, sometimes I think your imagination is wilder than mine is." Now it was my turn to pale.

"Are you saying I'm a liar?"

"No," she quickly answered, "I'm just saying you might have thought you saw it...."

"But...."

"Mari," Nino cut in, "how do you think you're going to sound if you tell anyone about this?" I paused. He took the chance. "You know you're going to sound crazy. Seeing creatures that can't possibly exist here. Even if your parents don't send you, you know the others in the village will try their hardest to get rid of you!" He squeezed my shoulders again. "Promise us Mari, you won't say anything to anyone about this. Not even your parents." My eyes shot between his face and hers. They were concerned. Genuinely concerned and it made me wonder what had brought this on, my mind drifting back to that night two years prior....

"Alright," I agreed softly. "I won't say anything." That seemed to give them some relief. Nino nodded and released me only for Alya to catch me in a tight hug.

What I had told them never left that little hut. My parents didn't hear about my encounter that evening over our meal but I never made a promise to forget and forgetting was the last thing I was ever going to do.


	15. Alya Césaire

Marinette had me worried. Ever since the day she came to me and Nino about what she had seen, she seemed to become obsessed with polar bears. She stopped nearly every traveler who came into town and practically begged for stories of the white bear; she was often left disappointed when they had nothing to share. My heart squeezed at the hurt expression that would cross her face. She was carrying a pain that we couldn’t understand. We did, however, know what the cause was even if we couldn’t share it with any of the adults. Honestly, Nino and I were to blame.

The bear started appearing in everything she made. It was tiny for those items such as shirts or dresses to be worn by others and unless one looked for them, it was nearly impossible to spot them.

It was kind of a relief when her Maman managed to get her hands on some nice red fabric which gave her the idea to make a ladybird cloak with some left over black fabric she had. The white bear didn’t appear on that piece. "It doesn’t feel right," she told me, "to put him on this cloak. It's just a feeling. I can't really explain it; red and black just doesn't seem to match him."

"Then what does?" She thought for a moment.

"Green. He felt so... alive."

I kind of understood Marinette. Even though I had been afraid when we had seen the bear nearly three years ago, the more I thought about it, the more I came to feel that it would never have harmed Mari. Why else would it have appeared in front of her again? There was no way I could share that thought with Mari. I was forced to confide in Nino.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with the polar bear. He simply wanted to forget that it existed. Time, however, brought out a change in his heart and mind, and even though he still continued to not like the idea, he grew to agree with me.

"Alright. Fine. The bear doesn't mean her any harm but that doesn't mean I have to like the fact it keeps showing up."

"I think it means something." I paused. "What if it's looking for help? Maybe it is really cursed." His eyes were nearly lifeless when he returned his answer.

"If that's the case, then it will probably try to take Mari away. We'll never see her again Alya." I shivered at the thought and he pulled me into a hug. "This is why we need to forget it. Forget the bear. We'll never see it again. Mari's going to be alright."

I really wished I could have believed him then.


	16. Tom Dupain

The summer Marinette turned eighteen was the hardest year to date.

For years, the crops in the area around us seemed to be failing, the ingredients we needed for the bakery nearly absent in times. There were days where we were simply unable to open the bakery due to the lack of materials. Because of this, our coffers went nearly empty.

There were days without food in our house.

Mari still lived with us and she did her best to help with her weaving and sewing but even that was often not enough to buy what we needed for all three of us. There were times that I even saw the younger children from around us rushing out to the forest to search for berries or other foods to eat, coming back usually with tears in their eyes as their search had been unsuccessful. It seemed that hard times had fallen on all of us.

Sabine too had me worried. There were some days that she was too tired to even remove herself from bed and often, when the bakery was able to open, she only was able to help in short bursts. Something was wrong. She merely waved off my worried and explained that it was just age. I trusted her though. Despite my misgivings, I kept my further concerns and offers of a doctor, quiet and shared them with no one.

I gave my meals to my wife and daughter. I was strong enough to handle missing a few throughout the week but they needed it more than I. I often feigned wellness to encourage them to eat more. Sometimes they bought it. Sometimes, Marinette seemed to play my own game, feigning being full and demanding I finish off her food so that it didn’t go to waste. I merely smiled. In temperament, she was more like her mother. A stubborn creature. I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to deny her and so, I took her bowls with some hesitation and drank, watching her from the corner of my eye to see if she wanted it back. She never did. In fact, it was rather foolish of me to believe otherwise. Marinette was intelligent. Her eyes always sparkled at the discoveries of her childhood and, even though she was old enough by that time to live on her own or find a suitable suitor to wed, she choose to continue to live with us which helped a bit. Still, we tried to shield her from it as best as we could. We didn't know how much she knew or suspected but I feared the day she ever confirmed her suspicions. 

We knew exactly the kind of person she was. If we had opened with her honestly, the possibilities of what she would have done to make our lives better were limitless.

Then again, if we had been honest, maybe the events of this story wouldn’t have taken place.


	17. Chloé Bourgeois

The first time my eyes ever landed on a mortel was when I was much younger. My father, the previous King, had decided that since I was coming of age soon, and would soon be absenting the throne, it would be wise to begin to introduce me to the world of men where most of our useful, mindless labor came from. We had a summer home deep in the southern lands. It was several days journey even with the kwami magic moving us much faster than any normal creature could comprehend. Despite the sleigh we rode in being fit for royalty, I easily became bored with the whole affair and was half-way tempted to throw my babysitter directly off as she attempted to continue my lessons.

After a while, it became clear that even my father was annoyed with their teachings and ordered them to stop which made Sabina fall silent. He took over.

"There are rules," he told me, "that you will follow while we are in the Southern lands. To break them is to lose your right to the throne, do you understand?" I nodded. Thus my lessons began. The rules were as follows:

1\. Humans are to only be taken in cycles for menial tasks such as cleaning or animal care. I rolled my eyes. Of course they should. No troll would ever accept such jobs when there was an abundance of humans on the planet to do it for us.

2\. No human of importance is to be taken. Only those who would not be missed: orphans, homeless, older humans but not too old that they died upon arrival at the kingdom. Foolish humans. They raised their numbers so high that they were unable to keep a track of them all. The trolls were not that barbaric. Nor were we barbaric enough to abandon our own just because they became useless. 

3\. Under no circumstances, were we to interact with mortels.

My hand froze at the third rule. I stared up at my father who only looked at me with a cold, hard stare. "Why father," I asked, "Must we not interact with them?"

He scoffed. "They are below us darling. Mortels could only dream of matching our greatness. Now, I must ask you to cover your face; use the changing spell I taught you earlier. Look like them. We must not risk exposure." I could feel my face twisting. To look like a mortel but not interact with them. How absurd! Out loud, I responded with a curt, "Yes father" and did as ordered. I motioned to Sabrina who pulled, from his bag, a small hand mirror which I used to admire myself. My skin was delicately white and my face, heart shaped, my new hair long and golden in color. I was the most beautiful no matter what form I was in.

I spent the rest of the ride in silent contemplation. The rules were ridiculous; my curiosity needed to be fed for I had done quite a bit of research on them prior to our leaving but most, if not all, of troll writing simply left them as mindless servants. There had to be more to them. How else would they command the earth in the ways that they did?

We arrived, a day later, at the Summer palace. It was a large, crystal palace, cut into the side of a mountain and protected by spells to hide it from the eyes of any unwanted visitor. If the spells failed, then there was the large rock face to hide it just as well, which is what Sabrina removed herself from the sleigh for, to push a little rock inward so it slid open. We moved inside. Several days passed in boring fashion until my father announced that he was leaving to handle a trade deal with a mortel who had been capturing humans with us for quite some time. He would return that afternoon, bringing me finery. I feigned at a desire to not see him go but couldn’t help but fill a strong sense of irony and bitterness rise in my heart. How was it that he was allowed to interact with them but I wasn’t? I kept these feelings silent. Once he was out of sight, I proceeded to leave the castle in my guise. Sabrina ran after me.

"Your majesty," she called, "Where are you going?" I rolled my eyes.

"What does it look like? I'm going to observe the mortels." She gasped.

"You can't! What if your father finds out?"

"He won't find out," I turned on her, "Will he? Because, if he does, I would have half a mind to end the way he found out!" She swallowed hard, her eyes nervously shooting back and forth until she gave a little nod of understanding. There was still hesitation there. I waved her back. "Return home. I will not be harmed by weak mortels. Then you can easily lie and say that I was with you the whole time, kindly allowing you a nap as you had felt ill from travel."

"But...."

"Return." She bowed, knowing when she was dismissed. I turned towards the mortel village nearby. It was nestled amongst a thick forest which would have easily given me a great number of places to hide and observe. I nestled myself behind a bush, watching as the sunlight streamed through the branches to a clearing just short of the village wall where a group of young ones were playing. Their voices were like bells. I was so accustomed to the gravel, harsher sounds of the trolls and this, this was new and exciting. My heart started pounding. I was more intrigued than ever before. Suddenly, a red sphere flew away from the group and rolled towards me, hitting my foot from under the bush. I was shocked but stooped to pick it up. When I looked back up my vision was blocked by a lone figure, a boy, with large, green eyes, and hair the color of gold, and beauty to rival my own. My face turned red.

I could feel my breathing hitch when he smiled at me.

I had never felt like this before.


	18. Nino Lahiffe

I had some news for Alya and Marinette that I knew they weren't going to like. I knew simply because I didn't like it either.

On a cool summer morning, I found myself sitting in our hideaway on the window sill, staring out into the forest as up above thick black clouds rolled in. We needed the rain but it had come too late. A sigh escaped my throat. I brought the mouth piece of my flute to my lips, playing out a song I had written for a wedding party some time ago; it was slow and peaceful which is what I wanted to feel but there was no such feeling in my heart. Eventually, I stopped playing. The silence was deafening and it caused me to frown. A few moments later, the girls arrived, arm in arm, smiles broken out on their faces as they chatted animatedly back and forth between the two of them. I didn't move. Marinette was the first to notice me. She waved. I returned it weakly. They opened the door and came inside.

"And then Gaston had the nerve to try and say something," she smirked, taking her kerchief off of her head and sitting it on the nearby table. "But karma got him when he ended up falling in a mud puddle."

"You are surrounded in good luck Mari," Alya rolled her eyes, "some being of god fortune likes you a lot."

"Of course! I'm too adorable to not like." Her eyes rolled again and she reached out to poke her cheek.

"Such a modest girl!" 

"I do believe," she drawled, swatting her hand away, "that on my next birthday, I will have been on this planet nineteen years. I think I left the girl stage a few years back." She turned on me. "Right Nino?" I nodded but said nothing. My face twisted in pain staring at the two of them as I turned away, trying to hold back the tears that certainly threatened to fall. This caused the two of them to look worriedly at each other before coming closer. Marinette took my hands in hers. "Nino? What's wrong?" I bit my lip.

"I have news for the two of you," I sighed. I squeezed Mari's hands, not willing to look up at the two of them as I muttered out, "My family is leaving Paris." 

I could feel the two of them tense.

"Wh-what did you say," Alya asked barely above a whisper. I swallowed hard.

"My family is leaving. We can't afford the land anymore and there's no crops growing. Maman has a cousin a week's ride from here who has work but Papa won't be able to do it, not after he injured himself years back when that horse went wild on the tiller. I have to go with them. It's the only way they're going to get any coin." If the silence before had been deafening, this one was suffocating. Neither of them said anything but Mari immediately began to sob. She released my hands to put hers to her face, trying her hardest to control her tears like I did. Her shoulders shook. The only sound now came from her. I reached out to grasp her in a hug. "Shhhh, it's alright Mari."

"I don't want you to go," she sobbed into my shoulder, "you're my best friend! You're like a brother to me." I kissed the top of her head.

"And you are my adventurous and annoying," I teased, "little sister. I promise I'll be back for your birthday." She smacked me in the shoulder. I flinched. "Hey!"

"I don't care about the birthday. I won't be able to see you every day anymore!" I sighed, still hugging her tight.

"I know," I whispered. We stayed like that for a few moments, not saying anything. I looked over to Alya who had been oddly more silent than her counterpart, but found her face twisted in anger, her forehead puckered, eyes narrowed and lip tight. I flinched again. Before I could say anything, she spun on her heel, taking off for the entrance. A clap of thunder tore through the sky. I sighed. "She hates me for real now uh?" Marinette pushed back, wiping the tears off of her face. 

"It's not what you think," she assured me. "Go talk to her." She stepped out of my embrace, backing up enough to allow me to walk past her and out the door. At first I couldn’t see her due to the sudden darkness but I eventually spotted her, finding that she had walked off into the forest line. She was almost hard to see at first. The sun was blotted out by the clouds and the shadow of the tree she stood under did me no good either. I walked towards her but stopped. Above the howling wind, I could hear her sobs. Her frame shook just like Mari's had but she used the tree for support instead of me, her back braced against it as her free hand gripped her skirt for dear life.

I moved closer, "Alya?" She didn't respond. "Alya, it's going to rain soon. We should head back in."

"What's the point," she asked softly. I smiled and moved closer again, this time so I could face her. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, her cheeks had a faint blush on them. It was a new expression. Sure, she’d cried in front of me in the past but this was… more. More of everything. Outside of who she usually was, the strong, independent woman she had blossomed into. Slowly, I raised a hand to cup one of them, using my thumb to wipe away the tears that fell from her eyes. Her lip trembled. "I know you have to go but...."

"I promise I'll write even though I'm no good with words." My heart was pounding. The storm around us was beginning to get worse, the wind howling in the branches above, sending leaves and other forest things flying. Another clap of thunder. She became frustrated.

Poking me in the shoulder, she growled out, "That's not what I meant. What's the point in me liking you if you aren't even going to be here for me to like?" My heart skipped a beat before racing out of control. I know I was blushing like a madman. I caught her face between both of my hands, forcing her to look at me as the storm continued to get worse.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm not repeating it again Lahiffe." 

"Please, Alya," I begged. "Please tell me I wasn't imagining it." 

"Whether you were or were not, what does it matter? You won't be here for it!" This time, a bolt of lightning lit the area around us.

"It matters because I've felt the same way Alya." She jerked, nearly deflating. I moved to catch her in a hug, hiding her face in my chest as she stared wide eyed at nothing, her arms eventually going around me to hold me back. The rain began to fall. My back took the brunt of it and I shielded her from as much as I could. Then she leaned back.

"Are you- are you sure?" I laughed.

"Yes, Alya. I'm sure. I'm sure that I like you." I leaned my forehead on hers. "And I'm also sure that I want to try and be in a relationship with you."

"But the distance...."

"Will be nothing. I'll write you every single day. I'll try to visit often too; I'll steal a horse if needed." She laughed.

"No horse stealing required. Just a visit every now and then would be nice." I nodded. 

"Alright then but are we...?" Her smile widened and she took my hand, squeezing it.

"I would say we are. Yes." 

"Excellent. Can we go tell Mari so we don't get sick from the rain?" She nodded and together, we walked back hand in hand to Marinette who greeted us with some clean towels to dry ourselves and clothing to change into. She squealed loudly when we told her the news. She then caught us both in a hug before pushing us off to different little areas to change. I think I overheard her whisper to my new girlfriend as I dried myself, “See? I told you it wasn’t that hard. You owe me now.”

“Oh fine. I admit you were right,” she whispered back. “We’ll talk pricing later. This isn’t the time.” The raven haired girl nodded. She stared at her with a smug expression and part of me wondered what had transpired between the two before I quickly decided that it was best that I stay out of it. When the rain let up, we went back to the town to share the news with our parents. They were thrilled at the development in our relationship even though M. Césaire looked like an animal on the hunt when we spoke.

Time went too fast. We tried to spend what time we had life getting used to our new dynamic and spending as much of it doing all the things we enjoyed together. 

A week later, my family had our belongings packed on the back of Maman's cousin's cart. We said our goodbyes, giving promises to stay in touch with the other two families, before riding off into the day, reaching our new home in three days’ time. It was a new start for all of us.


	19. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

If we thought the years prior to the year I turned nineteen were difficult, then that year was pure hell. Food was at an all-time low. We could count on one hand how many days the bakery was open during my birthday month. On top of that, I was still dealing with Nino's sudden departure and Maman's weariness was getting worse with each passing day but she stubbornly refused to let us call the doctor; she claimed that it was merely due to her age and that we were overreacting. Papa and I eventually kept our worries to ourselves. We knew that arguing was going to get us nowhere with her. We would never win.

Paris was beginning to look like a ghost town. Every day, more and more people seemed to leave in search of cheaper lands and more food that just didn't seem to exist here anymore. I overheard my parents talking about that exact situation. Only, it involved us.  
It was late one evening. My parents had stayed in the common area to talk and I had retired to my room some hours before. I came down though in search of some water sometime later. Their words floated up to the stairs were I stood and I could make out the conversation that passed between them. It made me freeze. These were… words and emotions I had never thought to hear from either of them, least of all Papa.   
"My parents never bought the land," Papa choked, trying to hold back his emotions. I could see from the stairs that his head was in his hands as she rubbed his shoulders. "They didn't think to buy the land; everything was going so well for them and the owner was kind...."

"Shhhh my love," she whispered. "It's not their fault. Or yours."

"I should've bought the land. We had the money!"

"Tom...."

"And now this! This- this new landlord!" He threw a letter onto the table. It was written on light brown paper that was crumpled from his hands wringing and un-wringing it in his clear frustration at the whole affair. The sight made my heart stop. It fluttered to the surface softly. "If we don't find the rent we missed by the end of next month, we are going to lose everything."

I covered my mouth to silence the gasp that almost came fourth.

Maman wrapped her arms around him, as if holding him could hold her together. Slowly, he reached up and hugged her back.

"We'll figure it out," she assured all of us, "We- we could always try going back East. Uncle Cheng was able to get in touch with me. My parents are alright and they so desperately want to meet Marinette...."

"We can go for a visit love," he promised. "But we couldn't stay. You know that. This is Marinette's home. Her life is here. She knows nothing else and she is of age, Sabine, that should she make the decision, she could stay." He grabbed her chin gently as he stated even lower, "Could we really live so far from our little girl?"

Maman didn't respond. Instead, there was a sob in the room and I snuck back upstairs before the conversation could continue. I never got my water.

I continued with my weaving and sewing, nearly tripling my efforts to pull any money I could into the bakery. It wasn't enough. 

Looking back, I realized that it probably wouldn't have done anything. That didn't mean I couldn't feel bad for being unable to help; it is a part of personality that one could argue was a flaw even though I enjoy it and see it as one of my strongest traits. I tried though, to make sure my parents smiled. A vest. A shawl. I made them simple gifts when there was nothing else. It seemed to work as they thanked me and kissed my cheek and forehead.

The last thing I did was finish my cloak.

I lost track of the days but knew that it was a warm, sunny summer afternoon. The loom was casted in shadow as the sun was in the higher part of the sky, sending only a few ribbons of light into the room. It was enough. My breath was tight in my chest. I watched as the loomed moved under my foot, pushing down and letting up, slowly as my hands steadily fed the yarn in. The basket was exposed. Underneath the brilliant red threads, I could see the woven brown strands that had made it; I was nearly out. There was no more yarn. The dwindling food supplies had subsequently resulted in a loss of the sheep population. A bag of wool at market was so ridiculously priced that there was no way I could afford one with the way that the bakery had turned. This left me to use what I had to finish a commissioned dress and then the cloak. My breath and heart hitched as the panel jumped. It didn't catch. The work wasn't destroyed. I released a breath but caught it again as the end of the yarn finally slipped in between my fingers. The basket was now empty. One silent prayer later, I pushed the peddle down one final time before releasing the breath and releasing the cloak from the loom. I secured the ends before holding it up.

It was my best piece yet.

The color was a brilliant red that I had made the previous year with some berries I had found from the forest. Its pattern was simple. Black spots appeared in random locations on the outside, mimicking the patterns of ladybirds. They'd always fascinated me. Especially since it seemed they always appeared just before something outrageously good happened to me like the time one led me straight to a dropped gold coin. They were magic and my symbol of luck. I'd hoped that by making their pattern, I could draw on some of that magic and make the world just a little better for my parents. I hugged it to me. Warmth seeped into my skin and bones; in that moment, it seemed like we were going to be lucky.

I couldn't wait to share my project with my parents. I stood quickly, practically running from the room as I ran to find them, stopping dead in my tracks when I did find them, in the kitchen of the bakery.

With Alya.

And a tiny sweet cake between the three of them.

I blinked, "What...?"

"Happy birthday Mari," Alya cheered. She came up, wrapping me in a tight embrace before pulling a tiny package from the pocket of her apron. "This is from me and Nino." She leaned in closer to whisper, "He's finally come to terms with what you saw." I was confused but she smiled, motioning for me to open the box, which I did, gasping. Inside was a beautiful silver necklace. At the end was a charm, a delicate, white painted bear. I looked up at her. She smiled, handing me a letter. I sat my cloak on a nearby chair, my hands trembling as I opened the letter and read:

Marinette,

Happy birthday! I'm sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate with all of you on such a special day. I owe you so much for everything you've done for me in the past years but, first and foremost, is an apology. I believed you. I always did when you claimed to see the bear. I was just scared. Scared for what that thing could have done to you. I know now that that was selfish and foolish of me. You've always had a good head on your shoulders (even when you're giving me a heart attack) and if you didn't fear it, then there was no reason for me to be afraid either.

I hope this necklace can serve as my apology until I can tell you face to face.

With all my love,

Nino

I was crying by the time I finished reading the letter. Alya gently took the box, removing the necklace and placed it around my neck. Maman and Papa came forward. Maman gently lifted the charm with a soft smile.   
“It looks like the one,” she noted with a tone of memory, “that you wore your first year of birth.” She let it go. I traced a finger over the beautifully done charm and smiled, noting how ironic fate was for setting something like this into my life yet again. I thanked Alya who in turn gave me a tight squeeze. My parents apologized for not having a gift but I hugged them, imagining the hard work they had to even make such a cake for us to enjoy. 

Honestly, it was one of the best birthdays I'd ever had. 

As we ate, I couldn't help but trace the bear on my neck and I mused at changing my good luck symbol from the ladybug to the polar bear.


	20. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Maman collapsed the day after my birthday.

She was in the kitchen, working to try and make a tiny breakfast for us to enjoy. Her shoulders were slumped and it was clear that she wasn't feeling well; all the color seemed to be drained out of her being. I came up, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped, nearly dropping the spoon in her hand, as her free one went to her heart. Realization took a moment to set in and she let out a sigh. "Maman, why don't you sit down? I'll finish breakfast."

"I'm alright...."

"Yes but I'm still worried," I cut her off. "You're looking pretty bad right now. Please, for my sake, let me finish breakfast." She hesitated. Eventually she smiled softly and handed me the spoon, standing weakly on tip toe to kiss my cheek. I leaned down a bit to meet her.

"Thank you Marinette." I dunked the spoon back into the pot, continuing to stir as she had. We fell silent. Until, that is, she started coughing.

"Do you need me to get you some water?" I didn't turn around to look at her. When a loud thud came from her spot, I jumped, turning in a heartbeat as mine traveled a million miles a minute. The spoon went flying. Stew splattered on the ground and my shoes. I gasped. Maman lay crumpled on the floor, weaker and more fragile than I had ever seen her before, her face completely pale and out of color. Running over, I gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her over on to my lap. My hand burned from the heat coming off of her forehead. Tears pooled in my eyes. "Papa," I screamed. The sound of heavy, running steps came up the stairs and seconds later, Papa, his hair a mess, eyes worried, appeared in the doorway, his face paling when he saw us on the floor. He rushed to our side. He scooped Maman out of my arms without hesitation. She seemed so fragile in his hold.

I followed behind as he ran us out of the bakery. The doctor lived several blocks away from us and usually by foot the trip would have taken roughly ten to fifteen minutes; we made it in eight as Papa was all but moving magically from place to place. He threw the door open. The doctor stood from his table in the corner, thoroughly surprised. Papa panted, "H-Help...."

The other man caught sight of Maman. "Bring her this way," he ordered, moving a white, cloth curtain out of the way and motioning to the back room where a long bed rested. Papa did as ordered. The doctor stopped me. "Wait here. Too many people could cause her condition to get worse." He motioned towards his fireplace. "If you need to keep busy, make some tea. It'll help calm your father for sure."

I didn't want to.

I had no choice.

My face felt numb as I nodded, obediently sitting still for the first time in my life. But, like normal, it got old quick. I stood, pacing around the room and finding everything I needed to make the tea as I had been directed. I took the kettle outside to the well, filling it. There were some whispers from the other people who had come for a similar task about the sharp-eyed girl appearing at a place she didn't normally frequent but I ignored them. I wasn't in the mood to deal with them. Once the kettle was done, I returned to the doctor's home, setting it on the fire to boil before returning to my seat, wringing my hands as I waited. An eternity seemed to pass. The kettle eventually whistled and I filled it with the tea leaves. Later, I strained them. The tea went into a cup for me. I didn't drink. There was nothing in me that could seem to raise the full cup to my lips as I waited for word. After an hour, Papa appeared. I stood. The cup almost fell from my hands to pour cold liquid everywhere.

His face twisted.

I knew the news wasn't good when he approached me and caught me in a hug. As we stood there, the doctor came out with a sigh. Papa released me enough to face him. His face was grim too, "I don't understand why she hasn't collapsed sooner. She has pneumonia for certain. There are possibly even more occurring that I can’t diagnose at a preliminary examination; it’ll take a few weeks, if not months, to test for everything. I would even say continuous exhaustion and stress has made it worse."

Papa squeezed my shoulder, "Is there anything we can do?"

"Yes," he sighed. "There are some herbs we can use."

"Then let's do it." The doctor's face twisted.

"I would love too but...."

"But? What could be more important than saving her life?"

"Nothing monsieur," he assured him, "I am afraid though that the herbs are expensive; they must be imported and to do so would cost a pretty coin." Papa's face fell. Mine too.

We didn't have the coin.

We couldn't save Maman.

The doctor put a hand on Papa's shoulder. "You wife will be fine for now if she stays in bed. Rest is the best thing until the herbs can be paid for. Take her home. Keep her warm," to me he added, "Try to keep a cloth on her forehead to break that fever." I nodded.

"Yes," I breathed, "thank-you."

We took Maman home. Papa carried her delicately as she slept cradled against his chest. She slept for the rest of the day and into the night; at one point, Alya even came over to help but when she came, I don't recall. I do remember her coming up stairs looking for us. I remember her surprise. She gave me a hug and offered to stay. She cooked that night for us after she returned home quickly to speak to her parents. For once, we didn't try to stop her family from sending us food as they kindly had tried to do often in the past. It was a gracious gesture. Especially since Papa and I were both weary from staying by her side all day. A gentle hand shocked me from my stupor sometime late that evening. I jerked.

"Here," Alya offered. I took the steaming bowl of food as she squeezed a bit to reassure me. "Make sure to eat every bite. Your mother needs you to stay strong so she can focus on getting better herself." I nodded.

"Thank you," I breathed. She waved a hand.

"What are friends for? Besides, we both know that Nino would kill me if I didn't help." I smiled.

"That's true." Papa came in then. He ran a weary hand over his face.

"Why don't you go take a break Marinette," he offered. "I'll stay by her side."

"Oui. Papa but only if you let me take over again in an hour." He kissed my forehead.

"Alright." He pushed us out of the room, taking the seat I had just occupied. I saw him brush some hair off of her forehead, kissing it just as he had for me, before he looked over and grabbed the cloth to dab her fevered skin with. Alya took my shoulder and led me to the table. We sat in silence as I ate. The food was good. I couldn't taste it though; it was like everything in me had gone numb. Alya cleared her throat.

"She's going to be alright Marinette."

"We don't know that," I practically whispered. She smiled.

"She's your mother. We both know how she is."

"What if it's not enough this time Alya? What if she slips away from us?" I clenched my fist, my teeth grinding hard. "We need those herbs but without the money...."

"My parents could probably afford them," she offered.

"That would be Papa's decision to make." Silence. She then told me, "I've written to Nino. I sent the letter only a few hours ago but I think he'd like to know what's going on." I nodded.

"He would. Maman always thought of him as the son she never could have." I sighed, pushing the bowl away from me. It was only half empty. Alya frowned but said nothing; half was better than none and there was no way I was forcing the rest into me without making myself sick. "I just wish," I stated slowly, "That there was something I could do. If only I'd been able to save some more coins...."

"None of us were ready Mari," she cut me off. "My parents are only doing well because of what my mother does. Papa's been having troubles at work too. Everyone is hurting right now and there's nothing we could have done to get ready for it."

"Maybe but...." I shook my head, squeezing my hands on my knees. "I still feel like I should be able to do something. Anything."

Alya started to say something. However, she was cut off by a knock on the bakery door. We both jumped, looking at each other highly confused. I started to stand but she beat me to it. She pushed me back into the seat. "Just wait here," she ordered. "I'll go see who it is." I muttered my thanks to her and found myself seemingly drifting out again, something I'd been doing since this morning, as if I was unable to keep my mind in place.

Suddenly, she screamed. It was a blood curdling scream, one I had never heard come from her before. I jumped from my chair, bolting down the stairs and stopping at the base, my eyes going wide as I turned into the bakery area. Papa was right behind me.

"What happened," he asked. Alya had fallen back. Shaking, she raised a hand, pointing to the door.

All of us were speechless.

Standing in the door frame was the polar bear.


	21. Polar Bear

Memories are like a stream.  
Hazy.  
Hard to grasp.  
Slow moving.

But some prevail from a previous life.

A red ball.

An odd voice.

A smile.

A promise.

Burning.  
Pain.  
More legs than before.  
Thick, heavy fur.  
A muzzle.

A cage.  
A requirement.  
Conditions.  
No escape as I was.

Freedom soon.

The time has come


	22. Tom Dupain

I pushed Marinette out of the way to grab Alya and pulled her back behind me. All of us were in shock. The two of them hid behind me; I could feel their hands on either of my arms, gripping me for dear life as we watched this massive white bear lumber into the room, one paw at a time as it was slightly too wide for the door and despite me believing that it would be stuck by the frame, it seemed to come in with no problems. It practically filled the room. There was no doubt in my mind that should it decide to stand on its hind legs, I would easily be dwarfed in size. I swallowed hard. The bear looked up at us. There was intelligence there. This was more than some dumb animal that had found its way impossibly South to make its way into our door frame.

It turned its head. "Close."

I’m sure that all of us had the same expression. Did this thing… just speak? Balling my fist, I stepped forward out of the girls' grips. "Who are you," I demanded. It turned its head towards the door.

"Close."

It took a few seconds for the word to register in our minds but when it did, Marinette pushed past me, moving slowly past the big creature to shut the door it had just come in. The bear huffed and sat back on its legs. It faced us- no, Marinette- as it spoke, "I can help you." Its voice was deep and the words were slow. Clearly, it struggled to speak.

"We don't need any help." The bear motioned with its muzzle up the stairs.

"Wife. Mother. Sick." We started. Sabine had only been diagnosed as ill this morning. There should be no way for anyone to know that she was sick just yet. I gritted my teeth.

"My wife is fine. She will be fine. Leave." It tilted its head. It no longer spoke to me, not that it ever really was speaking to me, when it said, "Come with me and I will heal her."

Marinette, who stood closer to the bear than I would have liked, moved, making it clear that she was the one who was going to speak. My mouth dropped as she took over, "If I do, you promise to heal her?" It nodded. I knew my daughter; I didn't have to see her face to know exactly what it was she was thinking of.

"Will also," the bear struggled with, "make sure family is safe. Never want again." My face paled. Marinette nodded in return.

"No," Alya cried, running up to her friend. The darker skinned girl grabbed her arm and held tight, surprising Marinette who looked at her with shock and then softness. "No! You can't have Marinette. Why must she go with you?" The bear stared at the two of them. Eventually I came back to myself as well, stepping back in front of both girls.

"Must come. Will help."

"We need time," I floundered. It was true, we did need time. Time to figure out how to convince the bear that Marinette didn’t have to go with him and Sabine would be alright. "This offer is so... sudden." It took a moment to think about the words, but it eventually nodded, rocking back onto all fours.

"One week," it told us. "One week. I will return. Take Marinette with me." He paused, staring at her. I could see her reaction; her face went from shocked to in pain as she examined its face. It continued with, "If she wants." I nodded. The bear took it as a sign of acceptance of the requirements. None of us moved to open the door for it this time. Surprisingly, the door opened of its own accord and it lumbered out the same way it had come in, disappearing into the darkened sky. We watched for a few moments. Alya was the first to move. She went to close the door and once it shut with a soft click, we were left in silence.

Minutes passed. Marinette started to say something but I stopped her with, "You're not going." She balked.

"Papa!"

"You're not going and that's that Marinette."

"But what if he can help Maman! What if he can make her better? What if he can make both of your lives better?"

"By taking you away," I practically shouted, "How is that making our lives better Marinette? Your mother and I will die if you leave. You are our life!" That seemed to stop her. Hurt crossed her face and Alya came up, hugging her shoulders, trying to physically support her when mentally could not happen just yet. I knew my words hurt. Bless her though, my daughter needed to be hurt long enough to keep her from doing something foolish! "You are not going with the bear and that is final." Her bottom lip quivered. I turned on my heels, not strong enough to handle seeing my beloved daughter crying, as I returned to Sabine's side, gripping her hand tightly as she slept. She hadn't heard any of the exchange thank goodness. I rubbed the back of her hand absently as I wondered as to how I was going to break the news to her in the morning of the bear's offer.

Never had I felt so helpless in my life before. I wasn’t ashamed of the tears that fell that night.


	23. Chloé Bourgeois

I learned how to throw a ball. That is, at least, what the mortel boy called it.

I had picked the thing up, examined it, and had nearly jumped out of my skin when his face appeared to retrieve it. His smile was as bright as the sun. As was the hair on his head. His cheeks were rosy and plump with youth and his eyes sparkled the color of the earth.

He made my heart skip a beat.

I wasn't ready for the sensation nor was I ready when he opened his mouth and said, "Hello! You're new. Would you like to play?" My eyes traveled between the ball and him. I nodded my head slowly. Yes, I was able to change my voice to match his own, and while my magie was powerful, it didn't mean that I wouldn't be strained from the attempt; my voice would probably have still sounded weird to him anyway so I chose the easiest route of not speaking. He came through the bush and motioned for me to back up some distance, which I did, as he ordered me to, "Throw the ball!" I blinked. It took him a moment to realize that I had no idea how to throw the thing and he laughed, a light, bell like sound, as he showed me, "Like this." His hand went down and out, opening as he released his imaginary toy. I tried to mimic the motion. The ball rolled a little in front of me without going anywhere. He laughed again. I blushed. He ran forward, grabbing it and walking up beside me. The boy showed me. Together we practiced how to throw it and only once he was sure I had it, did he run back to the bush.

I threw the ball.

This time, he caught it. He let up a little cheer but it was short lived. Someone called for him. He turned back the way he had come. He stopped long enough to look back at me, his smile bright on his face. "I have to go but I'll see you again soon alright?"

I made a mistake. I opened my mouth and replied, "Yes" which caused him to pause. I covered my mouth. He only laughed.

"Your voice sounds funny. I like it." He waved to me. "See you soon nice lady!"

I waved back. The whole time, my heart pounded in my chest. I grabbed my cape and ran away, back to the castle where an unwelcomed sight greeted me. Sabrina stood outside, her form shaking as she kept her head bowed, my father in front of her. I gritted my teeth. I knew the little merde wasn't able to keep her mouth shut.

Usually my father spoiled me. I was very aware of how he treated me and all the good things that came my way because of his desire to please me. This time, he did not. I had apparently crossed a line and was thus grounded for the rest of the trip. Sabrina was lucky she wasn't killed. He made sure that she would see to it that I would remain in my room until our time here was done; after all, he still had business to attend to this week and dealing with a rebellious daughter was not on his priority list. As his magie was much stronger than mine at the time, I pretended to bend to his will, gritting my teeth like an obedient daughter. However, when he left the following day, I made sure to slip some slag to Sabrina in her food which instantly put her to sleep and, for a couple of hours at least, I was free to return to the place I had been the day before. I smiled smugly. Grabbing my cape, I rushed out of the castle, happy to find that he too had return to play with me.

That boy and I played all week. He made fun of my voice but continued to say it was interesting in its own way. He taught me some new games. I never stayed over my allotted time and to my father's knowledge, I remained in my room for the rest of the week. Sabrina was not able to tell him the truth as she had slept through everything every time I left.

As we climbed aboard the sleigh to return North, I made a silent vow that one day, that boy would be mine.

Even if that meant defying everything that kept our people safe.


	24. Polar Bear

The girl is unafraid.

Her eyes sparkle.  
Blue.  
Beautiful blue.

Calming but raging.  
Determined.

The father.  
He fears.  
The friend.  
She fears.  
All afraid except her.

Beautiful blue.  
A storm.

Seven days....

Too long.


	25. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Maman wasn’t getting worse but neither was she improving.

She spent most of those days in bed, as the doctor had ordered, and we try to amuse her as best as we could, by staying by her side and talking or doing simple activities that did not stress her too much. We worked on some sewing projects together. Papa began to avoid me for the most part since the night the polar bear’s arrival but he refused to hear out me about going; he knew what I wanted to do and the topic became a taboo subject in our house. To say anything about it was to start a fight. One day, as I sat next to Maman, I couldn’t help but sigh, sitting my sewing down. I was conflicted. I knew his wishes. I knew my own. There was nowhere for me to turn as I was not speaking to Alya who was also very much ignoring me at the time. Her wishes were very much like my father’s and I knew they had every right to be upset with me but it was a source of endless frustration for me. I knew it would be dangerous. There was no way to deny this fact.

But if there was even a small chance to help Maman, I would be willing to risk it. I would be lying if I said that the thought of an adventure didn't fill me with some excitement about the whole affair.

A soft hand grabbed my chin and tipped my head up. I blinked, trying to fight back the tears that were going to fall. Maman's face was twisted. It soon softened into a smile as she ran her thumb under my eyes, wiping the tears away. "What's wrong ma petite? Is it the bear's offer that has you so worried?" I blinked.

"How...?"

"I was awake," she admitted, brushing my hair off of my forehead. "I only pretended to sleep to not worry you or your father. I heard everything." She grabbed one of my hands, giving me a gentle squeeze. "You plan on going don't you?" I nodded. I had to bite my lip to keep the tears from falling. Maman sighed but didn't let go of my hand as she asked a new question, "Just tell me one thing Marinette, would you leave because of me or for yourself?"

"Both Maman," I assured her. She nodded, patting my hand, and giving me a gentle kiss before handing me the sewing she had been working on. She tucked in lower on the bed. Within a few moments, she was asleep again. I quietly stood from my chair, leaving the room.

I couldn't help but wonder if that had been her blessing for my departure.


	26. Alya Césaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!!!! ^..^ Dragon here and I'm back with paladin-of-fandoms again. Paladin did such an amazing job working with me as a responder. The drawings are well designed and adorable and everyone should check out the latest page design here:
> 
> https://paladin-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/private/168404792846/tumblr_p0rl3rpUEB1w4iljr
> 
> Enjoy!

I hadn’t spoken to Marinette in several days. At least, not since the day of the polar bear’s sudden appearance at the bakery. Just thinking about the day was enough to send my head reeling because I knew. I knew without a doubt what Marinette was going to do; she was just too good for any of us and she would do anything to give back to her parents for everything that they’d done for her since the day she was born. 

The thought physically made me sick.

Sometimes she forgot to worry about herself and going off with a polar bear, a magic, talking polar bear, was just a ridiculous idea. How safe was she going to be? Where was he going to take her? What about all of our promises we had made growing up? How were we going to complete any of that if she just disappeared out of existence? As the night of his return grew closer and closer, my worry just continued to grow and grow until I couldn’t stand it any longer; so, I did the only reasonable thing I could do.

I wrote a letter.

To Nino. 

If anyone or thing could help, surely he could.

I pulled out a piece of paper I had on hand, smoothing it out as I dipped my pen into the inkwell on my desk. Thinking for a moment, I nibbled on the end before deciding on my words. It came out as:

Nino, 

If you’re reading this, it’s probably too late but I wanted you to be aware of the situation. Do you remember when we were kids and Mari went missing? You and I ran to the lake north of town only to find her being dragged from the brink by a huge white bear that thankfully didn’t want to eat her or us. We knew that bear would be back. Of course we did. That wasn’t natural behavior. Turns out, he’s a magic bear and wants to take Marinette with him. At this point, there’s only a few days left before he comes to collect. I don’t know what to do Nino. I promised I’d keep her safe, that I’d be there for her, but those two duties are fighting now. I know what she wants. I know her all too well. She’s going to go and I don’t think there’s anything in this world that can stop her.

I stopped. Everything was there. Every bit of worry I had and all my fears. It was like removing a cork from a bottle and it seemed that in freeing the words, freed my tears. They fell freely down my face and for some time, I sat there, crying, letting them land wherever they wanted, including the letter which blurred some of the words but Nino would understand. He usually did. Once I felt better, I pulled my handkerchief from my apron. Cleaning up a bit helped. It seemed to help wipe away more of the fears and even if it didn’t actually, just the thought of it doing something made me feel human enough to finalize the letter, seal it, and carry it with me as I stepped outside. The sun was setting. Some people still milled about though and I saw one who looked like he was about to take off.

“Pardon me monsieur,” I called. He had just straddled his horse but he turned his head to eye me. He tipped his hat. “Pardon me but are you heading to the city south of here?” 

“I am.” I reached into my apron with a coin. Pressing it and the letter to him, I asked him to find Nino at his cousin’s and to deliver it for me. He agreed. The trip would take nearly a week by the cart he was apparently pulling. By then, it would be too late. 

Marinette would be long gone.

I would be all alone. Again.

Just like when I’d first arrived in France.

I sniffed. The tears threatened to fall again. I wiped them away with the palm of my hand, turning to head back to my family’s home, but I stopped dead in my tracks. Standing behind me was Marinette. She had a basket in her hands, a sad attempt to find materials for the bakery or for her mother, I never asked. We stared at each other then.

Then we weren’t as we both collided in a hug.

It didn’t take much for the two of us to start crying and weeping in each other’s arm. Her basket tumbled to the ground, landing on its side. We didn’t care. 

“I know,” I sobbed, “I know you Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I know what you’re going to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she returned. I pushed her back so she could see me. I shook my head. 

Squeezing her shoulders, I continued with, “Don’t be. This is you Mari. I would be so disappointed if you didn’t decide to go.” I bit my lip. “It’s just…. It’s just going to be lonely now with you and Nino gone.”

“Oh Alya.”

“I haven’t been that way since we came here. I don’t want to feel like that again.” Marinette took my hands. She leaned up to give me a kiss on the cheek. 

“You will never,” she assured me, “be alone again.” She let me go to quickly reach around her neck to take off the gift from Nino. She smiled sadly. “I know Nino gave me this for my birthday but I think you should have it. Hold on to it for me until I get back?” I balked. I didn’t want to take it at first; it was her gift after all but the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. I nodded. Ducking a bit, she slipped it over my head. The charm came to rest right on my collar bone. It was warm. “Whenever you feel lonely, just remember, I’m going to be here with you in spirit. Always.” I nodded and sniffed again.

“Thank-you Mari. I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.” She smiled, wiping the tears from my eyes.

“I feel the same Alya. Best friends forever. Promise.” 

“Promise.” We hugged again.

“It’s going to be alright,” she promised under her breath. I nodded, releasing her. Mari stooped to pick up her basket again. Before she left, she turned to smile at me again.

“We should go to the hut,” she mentioned, “We can have a sleepover there. Just us. Hang out… one last time.” Her voice caught. My lip quivered but I didn’t cry and I nodded. 

“Yeah. See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. See you Alya.” She left without another look back. My hand immediately went to the bear charm, giving it a squeeze. My heart surged. Surely there was something I could do…. And then, it hit me. There was something I could do. Turning on my heels, I went back into my room and dug around for a little bit before producing one of the empty journals I kept. I returned to the desk I had left about an hour before, re-dipped my quill, and started documenting the story of the girl who went off to live with a polar bear.

Not long after her return to Paris, I would pass that journal, this journal, around to the others and we would all share our version of the story.


	27. Chloé Bourgeois

We returned to the realm of trolls a week after I met the boy. Yet, he never was far from my mind, always there, smiling and carrying that red ball. He was there at all hours of the day. He would be mine.

However, then was not the time. 

My magie was far weaker than my father’s. Even as he waxed older, the man was impossibly strong so any desire I had to break the rules were quickly squashed down in the months following our visit. 

I felt like the weakest user out of the three of us. If I boiled it even more down to just me and the boy, surely he had the strongest magie.

Circling, circling, circling.

Absolutely always there.

He drove me crazy.

Crazy enough to break the rules.

I kept returning to the summer home. My time as queen was coming soon; in the year that followed, I would be ascending the throne and taking my father’s spot so that he may retire in luxury. I was tasked to continue my studies. Soon it became my responsibility to meet with the humans, finally being allowed to break one of the rules that he had set before me the previous year, that provided us with our labor. Father was foolish enough to buy my lies. No, I never saw the boy again. No, I never interacted with him. Sabrina was vowed to silence especially when it was clear that my powers were growing.

But even I had my limits.

Thus I stole the boy and made him mine.

Father was extremely unpleased and because he was, and ironically still is, more powerful, I am unable to break the bonds of the conditions he placed.


	28. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Papa tried to get me and Maman to stay at a friend’s house until he could tell the bear that I was not interested in going. I started to argue against it but was cut off by Maman. Her eyes sparked fiercely even as she coughed. “This is my home,” she practically hissed. “Why would I leave?” I could see Papa’s face twist at the implications. Even though I hadn’t been born, my life had been filled with the stories of their beginning and the thought of it happening yet again made me swallow hard.

I refused to, holding her hand. “It would be best,” I argued, “if he heard it from me. Don’t you think he’ll leave us alone if he knows for sure that it is me saying that to him? He doesn’t seem like he’ll buy it from you or anyone else except me.” That caused him to pause. The anger and defiance seemed to seep from his system and with a defeated sigh, he surrendered. I had won. Part one of my plan had been successful. I was exactly where I needed to be.

The night arrived. My parents and I sat in our common space. Maman was knitting with some yarn she had had leftover; Papa stared off into the small fire we had going. I drew in my sketchbook, new designs that had been plaguing my mind for some time. Designs, I was sure, I would never make. We didn't speak. There was nothing to say. The air was thick between the three of us and I swallowed hard, not wanting it that way, but not knowing what to say to ease the pain that clearly was buried in each of our hearts. Around eleven, there came a knock on the door. Papa and I stood at the same time but he glared, forcing me back into my seat. Now was not a time for an argument. He went downstairs, talking with someone we could hear, before returning with Alya on his heels and I was allowed to stand and meet her at the door. Her lip quivered as I approached. We hugged. As we embraced though, she slipped something into the pockets on my apron. "A going away present," she whispered, "Write down everything. Tell me your story when you come home."

"I promise to," I returned. My arms tightened around her. "I'm going to need your help. Stop my dad. Tell him I love him." She nodded and it was clear that there was a sick feeling in her stomach of the betrayal she was about to give him. Louder, I asked, "Are you staying?"

"Of course. I don't want to make sure everything's going to be alright." Papa raised his eyebrows at that but Maman put her knitting down, opening her arms to the girl who ran to them, giving her a gentle squeeze. She knew. I knew she knew. Maman looked up at me. There was a sadness in her eyes but there was also the flash of strength there as well, telling me that she and eventually Papa were going to be alright.

At midnight, the knock came.

The second part of my plan now came into action. Alya and I stood with him. His glare didn't work this time on me as I bolted for the door. "Marinette," he called, reaching for me, but stopping short when Alya appeared in front of him, effectively blocking his path, "Alya!"

"I'm sorry sir," she responded. Her voice wavered, the tears were close, but didn't come.

I didn't hear if anything else was said between them as I took the stairs practically two at a time. There was my bag and cloak hidden under the display case in the bakery which I grabbed quickly, stuffing Alya's gift inside of it, before running to the door and flinging it open. I must have been a sight. I saw the bear's eyes go wide.

"I'll go with you," I panted. His eyes softened and he nodded, lowering himself so I could climb on his back. I did so. A Polar Bear's shoulders were far different than a horses and the size difference was clearly evident as I struggled to hook both legs across him to ride to... to... well, to wherever we were going. Without another word, the bear turned once I was settled and no longer struggling to hold on to him, starting to head north out of town. It was snowing and cold which was odd for the near middle of summer. I shivered, pulling out my cloak to wrap around me. I must have looked odd. A red and black clad girl riding a giant bear in the middle of a freak summer snow storm (or maybe it had been something of the bear's doing. I never did ask to find out). A voice came over the howling wind.

The bear stopped and I looked back. Papa was outside now, breathing hard, having run for us. Behind him came Maman supported by Alya. "Marinette! Wait!"

"I'm sorry Papa," I called. "Everything's going to be alright! I promise! I love you all so much."

I couldn't face them anymore. I turned back in the direction he was walking and once I was settled again, he started forward, and I was left to imagine the torn expression he had; it probably mirrored my own.

His tears probably mirrored my own too.

"Do not be sad," I vaguely heard. My eyes dropped. I felt incredibly tired all of the sudden but I mumbled an agreement before wrapping the cloak around me and leaning back into his fur, which was ridiculously soft, and fell asleep.


	29. Polar Bear

Finally.  
The girl with sky eyes.  
No fear.  
Determination.

"I'll go with you," she panted.

My heart soared.  
I dropped to let her on.  
Small.  
Light.  
So fragile and beautiful.

We leave.  
She is sad.

"Do not be sad."

Magie.  
Sleep.  
She curls back against me.  
Cloak divides our skin.   
I shiver at the touch.

Talking is hard.

The journey is long.


	30. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The bear traveled north. I was aware of that much and of the pain that shot through my body from trying to stay on his back and after some time, I figured out that it was much more comfortable and safe to sit with one leg tucked underneath me while the other hung off the side. His fur was incredibly soft and thick. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I nearly disappeared into it, leaning back in my cloak as my eyes drooped from weariness. All around me was pure white from where I laid on his back. As we moved further north, I only noticed that everything around me was ridiculously warm.

One day, just like the day I left home, it began to snow. This time, it wasn't caused by the bear. At least... I didn't think it was. It didn't have the same feeling. This was different. Harsher. Colder. I shivered and sunk further into him. I could feel his heart beating.

I didn't know how many days had passed. Several for sure. All I could use to tell was the appearing and disappearing sun. The scenery changed too. I couldn't explain anything I saw though. My mind was in a fog. I was sure that whatever magie had caused the bear to come so far south was being used on me as well; I felt sleepy for a majority of the journey and could barely keep my eyes open but I felt none of my basic needs for water or food or even the restroom. Even more surprising was when we came upon a rather large body of water, a lake as far as I could tell, and he stopped, dipping his shoulder so I slid gently off and onto the ground. I couldn't stand. Like a ragdoll, I crumbled to my knees.

He started moving behind me. I couldn't see what he was doing but after a few minutes, he came back. He dropped something on my legs and after several moments of doing this, I began to notice it. It was greasy. I couldn’t tell what it was exactly. He wrapped it around me, covering me from head to toe in the stuff and once he was done, he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck.

Internally, I was screaming as he plunged us deep under the water.

I weakly held my breath. After a few minutes, I released it and found I could breathe. Whatever he had swaddled me in gave me the ability to breathe in such an unnatural way.

The body of water was rather large. We had to have been under for a long time but I couldn't use the sun to tell time anymore. I was resigned, in my sleeping state, to amuse my nearly drugged thoughts of home and adventure and fantasy before wondering where it was we were heading. The other half of my time was spent sleeping as the spell intended. After an eternity of traveling, we emerged from the lake and he sat me down, causing the greasy substance to slide off of my body. I blinked in the sun. He had to help me weakly climb back onto his back. The journey continued for another week. At the end of that time, we had traveled North for nearly a month and it came to a final end at what I assumed was our destination. It was a giant castle, nearly as tall as the mountain it was built into and it sparkled in the sunlight that hit it. There was one tall spire that touched just short of the top of the mountain and as we got closer, it disappeared from sight but the two smaller ones on either side remained just in view. These smaller towers were still impressive within their own rights. They were topped with domes that carried crosses at their very pinnacles; it was clear that each and every ledge was beautifully decorated with intricate carvings, supported by pillars. Each part of the castle was laid with care. My breath caught at the sight. The doors too were impressive. They stood massive, clearing my head by so many heads that the number was hard to count. One of them opened with a massive creek as we approached and we entered the impressive building, just to find that the inside was just as equally ornate and beautiful. There were arches everywhere. Statues stood at intervals in different poses, tapestries decorated the bare places in between. Columns supported the roof which was high. Everything was singularly amazing in my magicked state.

The bear dropped his shoulder. I slid off but having just ridden a bear for a month straight, I was weak, nearly collapsing when my feet connected with the beautifully marbled ground. He turned his head, catching me.

"Thank you," I slurred out. When I was steady again, he huffed. I guess it was his form of a welcome.

"Follow," he ordered. I nodded, clutching tightly to the fur on the side of his neck as he lumbered up a grand staircase and down a hall. I was too tired to take any more notes on my new home. However, I did get a chance to notice the room he dropped me off to. It was a long room with an equally long dining table in it. Several fireplaces stood in the room but one was just inside the door we entered. Facing it was a red couch. At a place close to it on the table was set some silver domes. He motioned to them. I released his fur. Staggering forward, I lifted one to find a warm bowl of soup under it. My stomach growled.

I turned to thank him again but the bear was oddly gone. Worry gripped my stomach for a second but then the hunger returned and I sat, slurping some of the broth down to reveal veal and vegetables in it. There was also bread and cheese. I took a slice of each. Never had such a simple meal tasted so good to me. Fresh water also sat in a pitcher nearby and I poured it into a clear goblet, drinking readily. My meal was done within a few minutes. I sat in my chair for several minutes, fuller than I had been in almost a year. A yawn came from me. I stretched and, as I rubbed my eyes, moved my way over to the red couch where I sprawled unladylike on it, before curling up and falling asleep instantly.


	31. Chloé Bourgeois

Father was furious with what I had done.

He made it clear that what I had done was taboo. He had forbidden me, the laws had forbidden me, and yet, I broke them with no regards for him or our people; the chances of our exposure was significantly higher now even though the humans were too stupid to figure it out.

So, my prize was taken from me.

He did not take the throne from me as he had threatened the previous year. It was too close to my time for it to change; there was no other heir. I was it. If I didn’t take it, then he would have no choice but to announce, in a rather large fiasco that would ruin our family’s name, that I was no longer the heir and there was no telling what would have happened with the citizens of the kingdom. Instead, he came up with another punishment. Father was still stronger than me, with arts that I had no knowledge of that he had developed and perfected in his youth and kept tightly guarded in a book that he sealed with even more magie. It never left his sight either. It was from this book that he brought forth my punishment:

First, all the conditions of his spell were to be explained to the boy so that he understood. Any and all of his questions would be answered. Nothing was to be hidden from him.

Second, he was to be given a home and servants. He would be well cared for and provided for.

Third, there would be no request denied to him by the Trolls. Anything he asked for was his.

Finally, I was not allowed to interact with him until the terms of the spell were met or broken. Should I do so, he would be freed and a second spell would start that would ensure he remained from my grasp for all eternity. I sucked in a sharp breath. My hands clenched at my side and I had to fight to not shake. This was the harshest punishment I had received from my father and it was in that moment that I began to plan.

I would have the boy.

He would be mine.

Our destinies were forever entwined.

Even though I was barred from interacting with him, that did not mean I could not observe. And I did. I watched for close to two hundred years as the conditions were nowhere near being met. In all honesty, I was beginning to grow impatient but then, as I watched, I saw something that caught my eye, causing a smirk to grow on my face.

He had finally made his choice.

The conditions were beginning to be met. I sat back on my throne, watching in the crystal ball that I used to observe him, as he helped the weakened girl up the stairs and into the dining room for her evening meal. I couldn’t help but feel smug.

Now, it was merely a matter of time.


	32. Polar Bear

There are rules.

Rules I can’t share.

Mind is blurry.

Red ball.

Pain.

Shifting.

Conditions that must be fulfilled.

Rules that soon will end.


	33. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The next time I woke, I was disorientated, shooting up off of the couch and successfully landing on my butt on the hard stone floor. I rubbed my back. Looking around, it all came back to me. My face paled and I shivered as the fire had gone out at some point; even though I knew it was summer, the room was so big that the heat just seemed to not be able to do anything it. Plus, if I remembered correctly, it had been snowing outside upon our arrival. I shook my head. It was blurry. I had a hard time piecing everything all the way together because of the state I had been in but what little did come back caused me to suck in a sharp breath. I was far from home. A really long way from home. So far, in fact, I didn't know if I would ever see it again.

The thought sent a cold chill down my spine. I shivered, hugging my arms around me.

My stomach rumbled again and I stood, remembering that I was in a dining room of sorts. As it had been the day before, there were silver trays on the table. This time, there was porridge and cheese and bread, some fruit, and goat's milk. Just like before, I sat in the chair for a bit after I finished eating but I wasn't tired this time. I didn't go back to the couch. Instead, I moved to the ornate wooden door and pulled. It swung open. I poked my head into a long empty hallway and decided that since I had nothing else to do, and oddly couldn't find the sack I had brought with me, I would explore.

The cold followed. I wrapped my cloak tight around me and turned left. The hall was large, just like everything else in this castle, and it had columns and statues and suits of armor that clanked when I touched them, causing me to scuttle away before they fell or came to life, and more tapestries that seemed to depict odd scenes; creatures and beings that I had only heard about in stories. It made me wonder. Where they actually real? Angels and devils? Dragons? Unicorns? Trolls? Every story my mother had told growing up? I mean, anything was possible. Since I was being held in a castle by a magic bear and all that. The thought left me even more confused and upset but I quickly squashed it down; I was going to be here a while. I didn't need to stress over every little thought that came to my mind. I continued on my journey. I opened one door after another. The first room was a library. I could see nearly every wall covered with books. It looked interesting and I made a note to come back later but I otherwise closed the door and continued on my way. The next few rooms were just living rooms. The fourth door I came upon led to a little outdoor garden that, despite the cold weather outside the castle, was warm and sunny with fluttering butterflies that seemed to glow in the light. It warmed my heart to see but like the other rooms, I closed the door with a note to come back later.

The fifth room made me stop.

Flinging the door open, I found it to be a music room with a large, black piano near one window and on the wall across from it were several instruments being displayed. I stepped inside. There was a large shelf on the wall with the door. I stared at it for a second before pulling off one of the books which was filled with music notes that I couldn't read; I slid it back.

I swallowed as I turned to the wall. Some of the instruments I recognized. Others I didn't. One caught my eye for sure. It was dark and wooden, polished to protect its integrity and sealed with a special wax that made it shine. It looked exactly like Nino's but nicer. It was a recorder.

My hand hesitantly reached out for it. I remember the day Nino held one for the first time. The notes that had come from him had been horrendous. I'd covered my ears. He'd stopped and apologized but I only laughed and told him to keep going; after all, how bad was he going to be if he kept practicing? I was right. He'd definitely gotten better. But I stopped reaching. Tears welled in my eyes and I drew it back, tucking it against my heart as I spun on my heel, retreating from the room and slamming the door. My back fell against it. I was shaking and curled in on myself to try and stop it for a moment. When I felt steady again, I continued exploring.

The place just seemed to be that much colder now. Wrapping my cloak around me didn't help. I held it tighter and nothing came from it. Most of the rooms I came upon from there were nothing more than dust and full of covered furniture and things, seemingly having been ignored for quite some time.

Then I found it.

The weaving room.

I ducked my head in, not really expecting anything since the music room, library, and garden had been the most interesting locations I'd found yet. This room caused me to pause. Excitement rose in my chest and I all but ran inside. Everything I could ever hope for was in that room. There were various yarns and dyes and pre-made threads and a nice spinning wheel and bags and bags and bags of wool to use.

Then there was the loom.

It was big and beautiful. I examined it from all the angles I could. Stepping on the peddle, I gasped when nothing caught or jerked and it moved so smoothly. It was the loom of my dreams standing in front of me. I got so excited I almost started jumping up and down. Then it hit me. I was in a rather nice room, with a nice loom, and apparently nice materials at disposal. Why didn't I make something? I'm sure the bear wouldn't mind. Even if he did, I was far from home because of him. He could give me a few self-indulgent pieces of clothing.

I skipped to the threads, noting three that I particularly liked. The first was silver. The second was gold. The third was red. Each seemed to shimmer when I held them up and my breath caught; never had I seen such beautiful threads. I took the silver one first.

Several minutes later, I found my rhythm at the machine. It moved so smoothly that I didn't have to worry about the consequent outfit being ruined by it. I had, in my mind, a design I had wanted to make but without my sketchbook, it was going to be a bit rough. Nonetheless, I tried. I hummed to myself as I pushed the peddle, watching carefully as the materials I fed in to the machine started to form the dress I wanted. I must have been there for hours but it honestly felt like nothing. When I was about halfway done, I stretched, realizing that I was sore and hungry again so I locked the piece in place before returning to the dining room where more food was set up. I guess it was night again. I finished the meal and felt tired but as I started to lay down, I caught the scent of something bad and it made me gag.

Until I realized it was me that smelled bad.

I sniffed the top of my cloak. Yuck. It was horrid. I think it was from the grease the bear had wrapped around me nearly a week prior.

That, and I hadn't technically bathed in a month.

With seemingly renewed energy, I left the dining room and started back down the hallway. I had to find somewhere to bathe. I by-passed all of the rooms I had explored or been in already and continued down the same hallway, searching new rooms until I stumbled upon the kitchen. It was large (surprise) and had a roaring fire on one end and several tables to chop, cut ,and prepare the food. That wasn't all. There were creatures in there too.

I opened the door slowly and ducked my head around it, my eyes going wide. There were three of them: a green one with a weird antenna on its head and a shell on its back, a red one with two antenna and two clear wings on her back which, like the rest of her skin, was red and black dotted, and a black one with cat ears and a tail that switched back and forth from his laying place on a window sill. The green one chastised him. The language he spoke was unusual and not one I was familiar with; it grated on my ears and it was definitely foreign. He opened one bright green eye, yawned and rolled over, clearly disregarding what had been told of him. I thought the green one was going to kill him. Then the red one said something and it apparently stopped the green one from killing him because he sighed and spoke to her, a smile appearing on his face as they both went back to working. The black one yawned. He looked over his shoulder and our eyes locked. For a second, time stopped. He turned back to the window and said something that caused the other two to stop and turn to me, nearly dropping the food they were working in shock. I entered the room fully. The two on the ground backed up a bit. I cleared my throat.

"Hello," I said. "I'm looking for somewhere to bathe." They tilted their heads to the side. Again they muttered something but I couldn't understand a bit of their language at all. I guess it meant they couldn't understand me either. "Err...." I thought for a moment. Then, raising my hands, I began to "scrub my hair," signaling a bath. It took a moment. Recognition dawned in their eyes.

The green one ordered something. The red one nodded, coming around the table she had been working on to take my hand, leading me out of the room. I leaned back a bit to say "Thank you" before I was dragged completely from there.

I heard the slam of the door about halfway down the hall.

She led me back the way I'd come. Only this time, we turned down another hallway I had yet to explore. Several doors in, she motioned for me to open it and inside, I found a rather lavish bedroom. There was an ornate bed on the left wall which had another couch and fireplace across from it; a window looking out on the garden was on the wall across from the door and a wardrobe stood on the same wall as the door. There was also a desk and chair facing the window. My breath was taken away. I turned to thank the creature but she was gone. I shrugged. I guess everyone here was quieter than I expected.

Entering the room revealed another door off to the right side of the bed. Pushing that opened made me grin even wider than I already was. It was a bathroom. A white marbled bathroom accented in gold with a large tub in the middle greeted my eyes; steam rose out of it which meant the water was ready. I stepped behind the changing screen and stripped, throwing my clothes over the top. I would wash them later if at all possible but for now, they would stay there and I was going to enjoy this bath. I ran my hand through the water. It was perfect. It even had roses in it too. I sunk in, a sigh escaping my throat as I cleaned myself, leaning my head back at one point, nearly falling asleep. When the water eventually turned cold, I got out, wrapping myself in a fluffy cloth that was nearby. The weariness hit me again. My traveling bag was thankfully sitting on the bed and I opened it, pulling out my nightgown as I pulled it out to change into. As I did, Alya's gift fell out of the bag and I froze. I picked it up. Gently unwrapping it, I found a journal inside and new charcoal pencils. That journal was different than the one she would eventually pass around to all of us and what I am writing here is vastly different than what I wrote there; those words were eventually lost near the end of my journey which is why I am rewriting them here. So this is what she had meant. A soft smile crossed my face and I walked to the desk.

Before I went to bed that night, I wrote. I wrote my thoughts and adventures in the castle, even noting how it was odd that the bear had yet to return.

Writing helped to ease my stress. My shoulders felt lighter.

But even as I began to doze off to sleep, I still wasn't sure how or what to think of the events that had found me in that place.


	34. Nino Lahiffe

When I received Alya's letters, I couldn't believe what I was reading. My heart pounded and I felt completely sick; I kept going back over her words to make sure they were right. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire. Maman raised her eyebrow at me.

"Nino? Is everything alright?"

"It's nothing," I lied. I knew she knew it was a lie but she thankfully didn't push the subject. I left though. I felt the eyes of my family on my back. No one stopped me. Heading to my room, I stood there, in the middle of the room that I shared with my cousin, staring at nothing until the anger grew again and I growled, slamming my hand on the table in the room. I'd promised! I promised Marinette I would protect her at all cost and here I was, unable to do a thing.

I'd never felt more useless in my life.

Breathing deep didn't help to calm me. After a few minutes of that, I reached out for my recorder and left through the back door of our home to the alley just outside of it. Maman didn't stop me. She knew what I was doing.

Only the music could help me feel even remotely better.

I took a seat on a wooden box that I kept there for this exact thing. The mouth piece felt cool against my lip. Music had always been my go to when things were falling apart and sometimes, it even helped to convey what my words alone couldn't do. So I played. I played whatever came to mind; the sound was deeper than normal and mellow as the sadness made its way out of my instrument.

"My, young man. You seem to be rather upset." I stopped playing. Looking up, I found myself looking up at an older man with a cane and hat, wearing some rather impressive clothes in blue threads and high stockings, clearly demonstrating that he had some money tucked away somewhere. He leaned on the cane. "Your music is rather interesting. Did you compose that yourself?" I nodded. "Splendid! The rise and falls, the staccatos and sharp edges! Both angry and melancholy all at once. You have a lot of potential."

"Thank-you," I croaked. A smile crossed his face.

"My apologies. It must seem odd to have an old man like me commenting on something like music. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Pierre Bossard. I own a traveling troupe of musicians. We travel the country to play at any and all events that we can. I can proudly declare that most of those times are when we are requested by the rich and noble to perform." He pulled a handkerchief out and dotted his forehead. "The pay is good and we only accept the most talented into our ranks. Your potential is wonderful. Rough but workable. We have much to do to make you into a fine musician. We would be more than happy to train you... if you're willing of course. You would travel with us and goodness knows how long we would be gone. What do you say?"

My answer was immediate, "I'd love to!" A smile broke out on his mustached face.

"Excellent! We are staying at Madame Louise's Tavern up the way. We will be here for the next three days; should you not appear, I'll assume you changed your mind."

"Of course. I won't disappoint you M. Bossard." He tapped his cane on the cobblestone. We said our goodbyes. I watched until he disappeared down the lane before running inside; about an hour had passed since I had left to play and everyone had decided to go to bed. I bit my lip. I would have to share the news with them tomorrow. Lighting a lamp, I sat in my room, quickly composing a return letter to Alya:

Alya,

I have just gotten the greatest offer ever! A one M. Bossard has offered to help me improve my music and I'm pretty sure, even if he didn't say it, that I might start getting paid for traveling with his troupe. At least, once I'm done training under them. It's a great chance. I can't pass it up.

Not just for that. Traveling will give me a chance to search for Marinette. Apparently, we would be traveling all over the country and perform when we have to but I’ll spend my free time searching for her. I won’t stop. I promised Mari she would be safe and it’s a promise I intend to keep.

I want to go. I have to go. I’m going to make a new promise to you: I'll look for Marinette when I can. She'll come home for sure and she'll be alright.

Love,

Nino

Sealing the letter, I started at the little flicker of flame for a moment before I blew it out, casting the room in darkness.


	35. Tom Dupain

It seemed that the week after Marinette's departure made everything that had happened to us since her birth was nothing; even as I spent my time worrying and caring for Sabine in between the packing for our soon departure from this place, my thoughts would wander to my daughter and where she was and how she was doing. I started spending my nights sleeping in the living room. There was a small part of me that hoped she would walk back in, say it was all an elaborate joke, and apologize for scaring me and her mother. It didn't happen. I found myself staring at the back of an oaken door that wouldn't swing open. My hope flickered day by day. Then, one day, it was nothing more than a tiny spark. 

She was alive. 

I had to believe that at least.

Business seemed to pick up a bit. Customers started returning but they expressed their dismay at the upcoming closure and they wished us in our future, wherever it would lead us. I thanked them with a half-smile. Their thoughts helped a bit. My face nearly gave away my lies when they then asked about Marinette. Softly, I told them that we had sent Marinette to her mother’s country to visit her relatives until we could eventually follow ourselves. They nodded. They agreed that it was a wise decision. Sabine, for the most part, stayed silent.

One of our friends thankfully offered us a smaller home. It wasn't much. Yet for two without other options, it was more than we could accept.

One day, as I was working in the bakery, making the last of our goods as the following day, we would be removed by the new landlord, a new customer walked in. He was a regal man. His shirt and over coat were both well-tailored as were his pantaloons. The hard soled shoes he wore clicked on the wooden floor of the bakery as he approached me. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail held by a ribbon. I dusted my hands. Flour flew everywhere from the motion. "Hello sir," I greeted. It didn't even sound remotely happy which caused him to turn his head.

"Hello. I've come to try a Dupain-Cheng good. I hear you have the best baked goods in all of Paris." I smiled.

"We do sir. Would you like to try one?" I held up a sweet bun from the batch I had just finished dipping in what little honey we had left and he took it gratefully, biting deep into a corner. He chewed for a moment. Then, it was like he had found the whole meaning of truth. His face lit up, eyes going wide.

"This is amazing! It truly is the best goods in all of Paris!" He started to reach for a coin to pay but I shook my head.

"I thank-you," I sighed. "But, please, enjoy that one on the house. It'll be the last time I can fill someone with happiness like this." This tilted his head again.

"Are you retiring?" I shook my head.

"'Fraid not. We just got a new landlord; he's decided that since we haven't been able to afford the land, we need to leave." I sighed again. "We're losing everything."

His mouth dropped open. Sitting his bread on a napkin on the counter, he held out a hand to me. "My apologies good sir. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is M. Gregory Dupuis; I am your new landlord. I'm afraid there's been some confusion with my offices. You see, one of my subordinates was tasked at deciding what to do with the land in a manner befitting of our business and he decided to build a new clothing store here." He scratched his cheek. "I'm afraid I started to approve the plan until I noticed that there was a family who had been living here for nearly three generations and decided to come and see you for myself."

It was my turn to stare at him opened mouth, "But-but we received a letter informing us of your decision to kick us off our land!"

M. Dupuis' eyes narrowed. I could see the anger radiating from them and he practically hissed out, "I assure you, sir, that order was not sent through me. I will be having a very stern word with this subordinate as soon as I return to my offices." He cleared his throat, seemingly returning to normal. "Now then, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to open a new bakery?"

"A new one?"

"Yes, a new one." He motioned to his unfinished dessert. "If this is the kind of baked goods you make, I would love to help you and your family build a new name for yourselves throughout all of Paris. It would be grand. New goods, a new store...."

"I can't leave," I cut in.

"But man, think of the money!" I shook my head.

"I don't bake solely for money. It makes the food rotten," I mumbled. "Besides, my family has been here too long for us to think of anything outside of these four walls. This is where we belong."

It took him a moment but I think he eventually appreciated the words, nodding his head. He picked his dessert up again. "Very well then. Here you shall stay." He started to say more but stopped. A new noised interrupted and I turned my head, listening upstairs to where Sabine rested, when I heard her calling for me. I tore my apron off.

"If you'll excuse me, I must attend to my wife."

"Would you mind," he slowly asked, "If I met this Mrs. Dupain? I would very much like to greet her. At least introduce myself as I would like to become your business partner."

"I don't think...." There came a crash and both of us looked at the stairs. Without waiting, I took them two at a time, running to her room, only to find Sabine on the floor, a smashed pitcher next to her; I didn't hesitate for a second, destroying more of the particles as I hurried to her side, scooping her up, and placing her back in the bed. Her temperature was high again. She must have fallen trying to reach for the water to drink. I tucked her in, moving to go grab a new pitcher.

"Goodness man! Your wife, is she alright?" M. Dupuis stood in the door. I shook my head.

"She's been ill for a while now. It's steadied itself but without the money for medicine...." He stopped me.

"Say no more. I shall return swiftly with an excellent doctor. He'll know exactly what to do." Before I could stop him, he turned, his cape nearly slapping me in the face, as he rushed back down the stairs, throwing his hat on, and leaving out the door. I was left to care for Sabine. A few hours later, he returned as promised; only, he had a new doctor in tow. He introduced us. We shook hands. Within minutes, he was looking at Sabine and within the hour, he had a new prognosis and a new prescribed medication. M. Dupuis and I continued to talk. He had grand plans for the bakery, even a few new recipes to design and try, and before we were called to discuss the information with the doctor, we shook hands, agreeing to the practice. Hope started to flicker again in my heart. The new doctor managed to not only diagnose Sabine but prescribe cheaper herbs which, even though I could afford the new ones, M. Dupuis paid for, tipping his hat to the doctor as he left with a good evening. He turned to me. We too said our good-byes and he left, a promise of returning in a week to discuss further business.

Oh, and we were allowed to stay.

Once the room fell silent, Sabine sleeping peacefully, I wept. She woke a few hours later, feeling better and stronger than she had in days and I shared the good news with her; she hugged me and wept as well.

The irony of our good fortune was not lost on us. 

Marinette was not here to enjoy it with us and it left a bitter sweet taste in our mouths.


	36. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The days passed in a blur. Without seeing the sun directly, I wasn't able to make neither hide nor hair of what day it was or how long I had been in the castle. I attempted to keep a count on a wooden board I'd found; each day, I took a sharp object, whatever I could find, and carve a little nick into it when I thought the day was over and I needed to be asleep. There was no way it was accurate. Believing in it seemed to help a bit. Or it made me crazier than I was already going from being locked in the castle but who's to say?

I tried to amuse myself any way I could.

The kitchens were now almost always locked. No matter how loud I pounded on the door or what I did, there never seemed to be a response from the creatures whom I had met. I was once more thrown into isolation. The silence made my skin crawl.

I spent a couple of hours each day going through the library. Reading only seemed to hold my attention for a few hours. It was quite, just like everything else in the castle, but I was able to find all sorts of interesting stories and writings in all sorts of languages. I even found Chinese ones. I tried reading the complicated symbols but failed, sighing as I closed the book.

I should've paid attention to my mother's lessons.

I made myself a small promise to do just that when I got home.

Usually I would head to the weaving room from there. The silver dress I had started working on the first day had still been in the loom when I had return; no one had bothered to touch it which pleased me. It took a couple of days to finish. The bottom of the skirt stubbornly refused to come out the way I wanted it to and I found myself tearing it down more times than I cared to count; eventually, it bent to my ideas and I let out a cheer of triumph as I pulled it from the loom, holding it up in the light streaming into the room from the outside garden. It shimmered in my hands. Rather pleased with myself, I placed it on a nearby mannequin. I was going to remember to take it to my room. If anything, I hoped it would sell well upon my return home to help pay for my mother's medicine (I prayed she was doing alright!) and for the bakery for my father. A dark chuckle rose in my throat. Of course it wasn't that good. The material, yes. The weaving and sewing? Not so much. I sighed. How ridiculous of me. However, knowing that I had very little else to do, I reached for the gold thread and set it on the machine just as I had with the silver one, and I began to weave again.

A noise made me stop. Turning, I found myself staring at the bear in surprise.

He seemed to be much bigger than I remembered. His black eyes were locked on me as he lumbered into the room; my breath caught.

Then the anger flared.

I stood as he settled himself on the floor, folding his paws in front of him so he could comfortably watch me approach. Stopping just short of him, I growled, "Where in the world have you been? I've been looking all over for you! You brought me to a strange castle with no explanation and then left me to figure everything out on my own. Do you know how many days it has been?" He blinked slowly at me before ducking his head.

"Talking... hard," he managed. My temper lowered a bit as he clearly struggled to get the words out. He breathed, "I... here. Waiting. Giving you... chance.... to settle in."

I couldn't hold on to it after that.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I... I would've settled faster," I mumbled, turning back to the machine, "if you'd been with me."

"Sorry. I'll be here... from now on." My shoulders relaxed a bit. I had turned by then to face the machine but I could hear him breathe and lay his massive head down on his equally massive paws as he finished with, "I mean you no harm."

My heart fluttered.

It would be a complete lie if I said I hadn't been bothered by the idea of what he was going to do with me but hearing those words apparently made the moment better. I only nodded before reaching for the machine. I began to weave.

We sat in silence the bear and I. It wasn't uncomfortable. After all, I knew he was watching me but I kept my focus deeply invested in the new dress I was making. It was a similar pattern to the silver one only this time, I knew what in the world I was doing. The gold shimmered. It was smooth and even in my hands as I pressed the pedal, working faster than I'd ever worked before in my life. The clanking of the machinery filled the air with an odd sort of music; one, in fact, that could never be repeated in any other fashion. Even though we were silent and apparently comfortable, something squeezed in my heart. I reached over to cut a piece of thread as I slowly started to talk about my family and friends.

I told the bear about all the grand adventures I'd had with Nino and Alya in our youth, about how Alya loved to write stories, and Nino enjoyed playing instruments or the recorder to be more specific. I talked about my parents and the bakery, growing up with the harsh glances of people around us, finding solidarity with Nino and Alya who were too attacked for the color of their skin. I talked about sewing. I talked about my clients. I reached and even tried to remember some of Alya's stories. I talked and talked and talked until I couldn't anymore; my days had been filled with silence but now they weren't. Hours must have passed in that fashion. I jerked, however, when the bear moved. He stood on his massive limbs, shaking himself out before gently telling me, "Finish."

It wasn't a question. Clearly, it was a command. When a bear tells you to finish a dress for a moment, you don't exactly go against him so I bit my lip, locking the piece in place before turning to face him. He lumbered to the door. He stopped long enough to see if I was following. "Come."

Weakly, I stood. Following behind him, we passed back through the hallways until we arrived at the dining room door. My stomach rumbled upon the sight. I was far hungrier than I realized. A soft thank-you came from me as the door was pushed open and I went inside to find new food waiting. I ate it quickly and alone. By the time I had turned to ask if he would join me, the bear was gone, and once more, I was by myself. So much for being there. A sigh escaped my lips as I finished, pushing myself out of the chair as I began my nightly rituals: bathing, dressing, writing in my journal, before stretching and climbing under the covers, the nightly fire roaring in the hearth as I snuggled down for sleep.

I couldn’t be sure how long it was. When I woke, that same evening, I knew something was wrong. The fire had gone out. The room was cold.

And someone was climbing into bed with me.


	37. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The scream I had seemed to get lodged deep in my throat, stubbornly refusing to come out. My body tensed. I could feel the bed dip as the mystery person climbed into it on the other side of me. My heart was racing so fast. Surely it was going to explode at any minute....

The movement stopped. The bed stayed down and I knew that the person was here to stay. Slowly, I reached for something, anything, that I could use to light the area and reveal their face but something stopped me. It was a hand. I froze, surprised at the very human contact.

"Who-who..." I stammered. They pulled my hand to their cheek, making sure it was securely there before shaking it back and forth. I swallowed. "You can't tell me?" He nodded. I could feel the sharp lines of his jaw, the smoothness of his skin. Clearly, this was a young person; someone, I was willing to bet, who wasn't too much older than I was. The thought made me draw in a sharp breath. "Is this your room?"

Head shake.

"I can sleep somewhere else...."

The shake became desperate. I could almost hear him begging, Please. Don't. Stay. I pulled away confused.

"Al-alright. I'll stay." It seemed like those words did the trick; he relaxed but moved further away from me, almost to the edge of the bed in respect of my dignity. I breathed again. It was odd; as I rolled over to face away from him, I couldn't help but think that it was the polar bear suddenly in bed with me. The polar bear that had apparently shed his skin and become a human or was he a human trapped in a polar bear's body? I remembered the stories Alya told. There's always a condition, she would say, to any magic. Usually you can't tell a soul what it is; the spells have to be broken through the wit of the person who was chosen to break it.

There wasn't....

That couldn't be....

I gripped my pillows tightly. Was I brought here to break a spell? Why me? What had I done to prove I could even do something like this?

Weariness suddenly overcame me. It was a lot to think about. As my eyelids fell shut, my final thought was only of what I could do to help.


	38. Chloé Bourgeois

My father always did have a way with magic. He was often called the genius of his generation and is still, to this day, considered the best user of troll magic that has ever existed. Annoyingly so. Despite myself being a master at it, I was unable to do anything to break the bonds and conditions over the spell he set in place.

I guess he did pay attention all of those years.

Once they were there, it became impossible to remove them without his book of spells which he kept under lock and key in his possession, surrounded by more wards than anything else in the kingdom. The box it resided in was then kept at his side. On display, I might add, which sent anger surging through my system. He was taunting me. Demonstrating that I couldn't just break the rules when I felt like it and expect to get away with it. I bit my lip. How annoying. Even when he grew older and all his other magic began to fail him, those wards remained in place. I was sure the night he fell asleep would be the one to free it.

And it came.

The night he fell asleep and never awoke.

The servants woke me in the morning hours. I rushed to his room and played the role of the grieving daughter appropriately before searching for his box. It was gone. Missing. I called for Sabrina and the other guards. They scoured the building from spire to spire with no luck. That is, until one of them stumbled upon a servant, father's favorite, burning the box and subsequent book in the fireplace near the human slaves.

He was taken into custody and the fire extinguished. It was too late. The box and book lay in ashes. In my anger, I executed him there, on the spot, spraying greenish blood around the room and on the servants that held him. They were ordered to claim him a man of treason. Of course they did so without question. As I was left alone, anger boiled inside of me. The book was gone. So were my father's secrets. I couldn't free the boy from the spell and bring him here to be mine.

The old bastard had been several steps ahead of me.

Now, nearly two hundred years later, my waiting is over.

I watch the events unfold in front of me and with a ring of a bell, I summon Sabrina to my side. She bowed upon her entry.

"Begin the plan," I ordered. She blinked before remembering what plan I was referring to. I rolled my eyes. "Go!" She bowed again, leaving as she had before. This left me once more in the silence, and as I returned to the mirror in front of me, I couldn't help but feel my chest warm again.

Soon the conditions would be met.

Soon the boy would be free.

Soon he would be mine.

Forever.


	39. Nino Lahiffe

Maman and Père were overjoyed at the offer I had been given. She hugged me tight, kissing my forehead. He clapped my shoulder, smiling down at me; everyone else in the room offered their congratulations.

The next morning, I was packed and ready to go, my trusty recorder in a sling bag on my side while an equally small bag of some of my possessions went on my back. They saw me off. There were no tears this time. I adjusted the bag on my back and strolled confidently down the street. M. Bossard was exactly where he said he would be. His face seemed to light up upon my arrival. He held out a hand. We shook. The deal was done. He introduced me to about five other people, all musicians, who greeted me excitedly, exclaiming that it had been a long time since they had seen M. Bossard light up at the prospect of a new player. I blushed. They teased me for a bit. Shortly after, we were in a nice wagon and on the road.

I made sure to send my letter off to Alya though. Once the message was handed off to a man heading back to Paris with a coin and destination in mind, I allowed my shoulders to slump. The following months were going to be tough.

Thankfully the troupe made it better. I found them to be funny and entertaining. Most of all, they were good at teaching. Francis played the lute so he taught me how to pluck the strings in such a way that it made the instrument sing. Jacques worked with me on the recorder. While he acted like a tough guy in front of the others, he made sure in private to tell me that I was easy to teach which had me beaming for days. Henri taught me the pan flute and some of the other wind instruments while Charles and Nicolas showed me some of the other portable string instruments. M. Bossard started teaching me the piano in the places that he could. I learned everything I could. It was exciting. Definitely challenging too. I kept going though, remembering exactly why I was doing this. Both reasons that came to mind all centered on Marinette and in those weeks that I traveled and learned, if I ever thought of quitting, I went back to her and Alya, remembering to keep my various promises.

We traveled all over. At first I was only meant to be an errand boy until the troupe felt comfortable enough to let me on stage. That was understandable. After all, it seemed that the Bossard troupe was rather popular and a new boy who played poorly would not have gone over well.

The first time was thrilling.

We were playing at a festival to the North. Jacques thrusted my recorder at me and ordered me on stage and thus, without much preparation, I was thrown into the fray. I played to my heart's content. It seemed to go well. The troupe shot me a thumbs up from behind the stage while the crowd cheered; I breathed hard and deep before bowing and exiting, receiving claps and pats and handshakes and congrats from the rest of them as they went on to perform. My popularity grew. There seemed to be more and more requests for us, and me specifically, that came from all over. This, of course, led into me having more and more to practice and more and more to do but I never stopped looking. When I was given my rare and in-between free time, I searched the town we were in, asking questions which often earned me confused stares and a quick boot out of some doors. No one had seen a polar bear. Least of all, one with a girl.

Then, one day about two months after I started traveling, I found an answer. A woman gave me the name Jean and pointed to a half-drunk man slumped in the street. He hiccupped as I approached. I watched as he put the bottle to his lips again.

"Excuse me Monsieur. Are you Jean?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Depends who's askin'." I knelt in front of him.

"My name's Nino. I heard you claimed to have seen a big white bear pass through here about two months ago." He waved a hand.

"Yeah, went out on the outskirts of town. Straight to the big lake up north." He took another swig of his drink. "To be frank, I can't tell if it was real or not. After all, it's not often one sees a bear with a thing on its back traveling this far south." My heart jumped to my throat.

"Are you sure," I croaked out. "Are you sure there was something on its back?" He shrugged.

"Don't know."

"How long ago was this?"

He thought. "Two months ago... Maybe a month? Something like that." He hiccupped. His eyes started to flutter and it was clear he was out of steam (or completely full of alcohol).

I bit my lip. "Thank you sir." I pulled a coin from my purse, enough for another bottle without revealing how much I really had, and slipped it into his hand before walking back down the street. Jean was asleep before I even stepped away. I could feel the hope rising in my chest again; even though I logically knew that this was as far as I was going to be able to go, I now knew that at least Marinette was probably alright. It was news I couldn't wait to share. Returning to the tavern we were staying at, I immediately pulled out some paper and a quill and began to immediately write to Alya with the good news.


	40. Alya Césaire

I wanted to cry as I held Nino's letter in my hand. Finally. Finally! His words were good and after nearly three months of waiting to hear something, it was good. It was a disappointment that he couldn't continue the journey north to see if he could find her but just knowing that she was alright, or appear to be alright, was enough to ease my spirit for now. I showed the letter to the Dupain-Chengs. They gave a yelp of delight and shared my disappointment. As I watched their faces light up in excitement, I couldn't help but feel extremely proud of Nino. He was a man of honor.

It helped to keep busy though. I spent a lot of my time in between two things: the first was through researching polar bears which I did at the tiny local bookstore; the sources were sadly limited. Those who had gone far enough north to see them had spent more time amongst the people of that land, learning their culture and language, instead of dealing with the creatures themselves. In fact, a large portion of them wrote about keeping a great distance. The people of the north, whom they called Inuit, advised to avoid them. From what little they did write and observe, I managed to put together the following profile:

\- Polar Bears live on the ice.  
\- Their main source of food are smaller mammals called seals.  
\- Most are heavier and larger than a standard piano.  
\- Because of their size, they move rather slowly except for when they are hunting where they seem to get impeccably faster.  
\- They stand easily three to four heads higher than a man on their hind quarters.

That. Was. It.

That was all I could find. This frustratingly short list made up all of mine, the researchers, and travelers, combined information on Polar Bears which was all I had to present to Nino and the Dupain-Chengs and even Marinette one day. It made me ruffle my hair in frustration. Maman and Père looked on in concern but said nothing. The twins kept their distance from me for the first time in my life. In the morning, I found little flowers on my table, a sweet and kind thought from said girls to help ease the worry I know they sensed from me. I gave them each a kiss on the forehead on my way out to work.

Oh. Speaking of....

After his initial shock of what had happened, M. Dupain had refused to speak to me for nearly a month afterwards. It hurt to be honest. I'd always looked up to him as a father figure and to be shunned after I too had lost everything was hard to deal with; however, I lifted my chin and was determined to not let his sadness and frustration affect me in such a way. I made it a point to visit Sabine every day. I helped her where Mari could not. I helped clean her and give her her medicine when he was busy working with M. Dupuis on the new plans for the bakery. He refused to acknowledge my entrance. Then, one day, I came in to help Sabine as usual and he approached me. He looked abashed as he rubbed his neck. Standing on the stairs, her arms crossed, Sabine stared him down as he mumbled out an apology to me; he was hurt and sad at losing Marinette (who wasn't?) and as an adult, he should've known better than to take it out on me. After all, it was Mari we spoke about. She would've gone with that bear one way or another just for the mere pleasure of the adventure. He asked if I could ever forgive him. Tears welled up in my eyes but they didn't fall. It was good to know that he could forgive me for letting Marinette go. I nodded of course. Then, he offered me a job helping at the bakery which I immediately agreed to. I was simply going to be a set of hands to replace the ones he'd lost with his daughter; I would've worked for free out of my own guilt but Sabine put a stop to that immediately, saying that I was going to earn a wage for all of the work I had been doing whether I wanted it or not. Of course, she could always go around me through Maman who would've been more than happy to slip it to me in other ways.

I sighed. There was going to be no winning with her. I agreed to the wage and she nodded, telling me to return the following morning for the grand reopening of the bakery.

And what a grand reopening it was! It seemed that M. Dupuis's men had, in one month, completely restored the place to a much grander and cozier format, breathing new life into the proud building. Men and women of all ages and levels of income spilled in. In one day, we earned more money than the place had seen in over a year and we celebrated that night once everything was closed, raising our water glasses in a toast to Marinette, agreeing that everything we had that day was because of her. My heart soared. I couldn't wait to tell her when she came home to us.

That moment had been over a month ago. We had fallen into an easy rhythm and life seemed to be getting brighter with each passing day. So much so that I hummed to myself as I went to work one bright and beautiful fall morning.

A noise to my right stopped me. I fell silent. A haggard voice reached from the darkness of the alleyway I stood in front of, stating, "My, my. You are so cheerful today. Is this to do with your change in good fortunes?"

I balked, "How...?" The person chuckled.

"I am all seeing," they croaked. Curious, I stepped closer so that my eyes could make out the shape in the darkness. There was a twisted old woman standing before me; she was wrapped from head to toe in horrible brown rags and her chin extruded from her hood with such a sharpness that it wasn't a wonder she didn't accidentally cut her clothes with it. There was a nasty wart on the pale gray skin and wild strands of white hair exposed themselves from under the hood on either side of what I supposed was her face. I nearly recoiled in disgust. "Ah... but you are not completely happy. I sense trouble on your spirit. Come. Show me your palm and I will make all your troubles disappear." I hesitated. Usually, when such people had tried in the past to offer readings of my future at fairs in town, I did well to avoid them, not believing in their silliness.

However, after the polar bear....

I took a deep breath. Stepping forward, I presented an open palm. A claw like hand shot from the shadows and grabbed it. I flinched. Her skin was oddly rough. She traced a gnarled finger over my palm.

"I see that your destiny is bound to one," she breathed, "who is a captive. Your dear friend is in trouble."

"Marinette," I paled. She nodded.

"Yes, she who was taken by the polar bear is in grave danger! And you," she traced again, "would like to help her but aren't quite sure how to." I nodded. Of course I was now worried. What if what this woman said was true?

Mari was in danger.

Mari was in danger.

Mari was in danger.

The woman smiled. From the right side of her cloak, she pulled out a candle and flint, handing them both to me with a whispered, "Give these to your friend the next you see her. They will guide her way. Nothing will put them out."

"Th-thank-you," I stuttered. We stood in silence for a moment until I realized that she was probably waiting for her payment, causing me to jump as I turned to my pouch to dig for a gold coin. However, when I turned back to pay her, she was gone! No sound, no coin. Just gone!

Her disappearance put a bad feeling in my heart.

I pocketed the candle and flint and headed to the bakery, unsure of what I needed to do next.


	41. Chloé Bourgeois

Sabrina has returned.

The job is done.

Now, all that remains is that I wait for the fool girl to end this silly game and give me my polar bear for the rest of eternity.


	42. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

It was easy in the months that followed, to fall into a relatively comfortable routine with the bear. I woke every morning at various times, staying in bed as late as I wanted before making my way back to the dining room to enjoy a light breakfast before heading to the weaving room. My feet always seemed to stop in front of the music room every day. I was tempted to go inside. However, the thought of hearing the music, touching an instrument, was far too hard. I missed Nino and Alya and Maman and Papa so much. I bit my lip. Turning, I continued on my journey to the room where I sat at the loom and worked on different projects; on anything really that I could use to keep my mind busy.

Usually after I had been in the room for a few hours, the bear would lumber in and, without saying a word, he would lay down behind me and watch with great intensity as I worked on my latest project. I talked during that time. It was the only time I could. The servants no longer interacted with me for whatever reason. It made me wonder what or who had made the verdict that I would no longer be interacted with and it slightly irked me. What could I do though? The bear could hardly respond when I asked him about it so I was left to silence for a large portion of the day. I bit my lip as I concentrated on my next dress. This caused me to stop talking. I was working with the gold thread, making a beautiful dress of gold that was far better designed and done than the silver dress. I was greatly pleased by its outcome. Once it was done, I made sure to hang it in the wardrobe next to the silver one and seeing them together made me beam.

I was proud of the design and rightly so. It was a beautiful and slimming outfit that I was sure would sell really well upon my return home.

However, having made the silver and gold dress, I had a selfish desire to use the red thread to make a dress of my own. So I did. It was the least the bear could give me considering he had taken everything else away from me. I worked for hours a day on it. Talking. Not talking. Sometimes even forgetting to eat until the bear would order me to come and take me to the dining room. Sometimes I didn't have the heart to eat so I ate the minimum to appease him.

I designed the dress with me in mind specifically. The dress was sleeveless with a deep swoop at the neck. It narrowed at the waist and clung tight to the body until it loosened a bit at the knees to make movement easier for the one wearing it. As a relatively clumsy person, I would need every bit I could get.

My heart squeezed. The dress was more beautiful than I could have ever hoped for or designed. Clutching it tight to my chest, I spun from my seat and practically bolting from the room, the bear's head going up in shock. Nothing was going to stop me. I was going to try the dress on; there was no mirror in the weaving room so I was forced to return to my room, slamming the door in the process, as I ripped off my current dress (one of the few I'd originally brought with me) before sliding the ruby dress on.

The fabric was cool and smooth on my skin. It shimmered in the sunlight coming from the window and it accented my skin perfectly, causing my eyes to really pop. I giggled. Pulling my hair up, I held it like I'd seen some of the richer women in the village do from time to time. It was the first time I'd seen myself so beautiful. Don't get me wrong. I was gorgeous as is but in that dress, in that moment, I was far beautiful than I had ever seen myself before.

My own mouth dropped at the sight.

A low growl from my door caused me to jerk, dropping my hair and spin. My door didn't shut. When I'd slammed it, it must not have caught.

The bear stood there. His eyes scrutinized me. My face turned red. Before I could say anything, he turned, making his way back down the hallway. I felt like an idiot all of the sudden. Taking the dress off, I hung it next to the other dresses in the wardrobe until I decided that I couldn't bear to look at them, so I took them all off of their hangers, folding them. Surprisingly, they folded so thin, flat, and small that I was able to slide them in between the pages of the journal Alya had given me without so much as a page being displaced from their sizes. I put it back in the desk. I left the room then for dinner, my heart still pounding and my face still red.

I felt so odd about the moment.


	43. Polar Bear

Beautiful.

A Goddess.

A dress made of ruby.

My heart squeezes.

My lady.


	44. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I decided to no longer make any frivolous dresses. I didn't really have any need for them upon my return home; there weren't any parties or anything that I was invited to that would warrant me wearing them. Once I folded them and put them in the journal, they stayed there. Sometimes I would pull them out and see how they were holding up. They returned to their usual shapes and sizes and once I was sure they were fine with no tearing, or even wrinkling, I would return them to their place in the journal. They folded up just as before.

Speaking of the journal, I made sure to write in it every night before I went to sleep. I promised Alya I would. So I did. Even if it was just a couple of sentences each night, I made sure to document everything that I could. I described the castle in great detail. The garden and weaving rooms too. The few interactions I had with the bear. Anything and everything.

Sometimes I just admitted to my loneliness and I let the tears fall.

I decided to make a couple more regular working dresses for me. When I'd made my quick escape bag, I had only packed a couple of them, which was fine, especially since the servants were kind enough to leave me a tub, water, soap, and a washboard to clean them with regularly. The first couple of times they had cleaned them for me. It was nice. However, I found myself desiring more to do and decided to add washing my clothes to the list which I quickly made known by beating them regularly to the washing. They were intelligent. They soon began leaving the materials for me and it became a new routine for the supplies to appear every three days.

Dear goodness. I just wrote a whole paragraph on how I ended up doing my own laundry.

This castle was really getting to me.

And bad.

Eating and bathing became intermediate activities for me. I just couldn't find the motivation all the time to do either; honestly, if the bear wasn't at my side and, sometimes, surprisingly, the red creature at night, I just wouldn't do either. I wasn't going anywhere. Why did I need to bathe? Admittedly, I did lose a little bit too much weight but I couldn't force myself to eat. Not even thinking about how disappointed and scared for me my friends and family would be was enough to get me to take in a little bit, enough to survive. I almost cried at the thought.

I was also worrying my night time visitor. He still came. I would always tuck into bed and an hour or so later, he would join me; sometimes he wouldn't interact at all, others, he would motion for me to move closer which I did, cuddling into his chest as I cried myself to sleep. It was oddly comforting to know that he was there even if no words were ever exchanged between us. As the time went on, I became curious about him. I began dreaming and thinking about him. I started paying attention at night to him. That's when I noticed the shivering. When he would join me, every light available would be blown out: the fire put out, the window shutters closed and locked, and all candles would be un-lightable. There was simply no way for me to see him. However, I did notice other things like when the weather started to change and how the lack of fire in the room made my bed fellow shiver violently. It made me frown. Taking off his fur must mean he lost the warmth he usually had with it and appearing in bed, despite the covers, caused him to be colder than normal. I had a thick nightgown myself.

Then it hit me. Just like I had sometimes done at home, I could gather his fur (which oddly got stuck on quite a bit of different items in the castle) and mix it with other white pre-made yarn. I could make him a shirt.

The next morning was a lot brighter for me. It had been a while since I had come up with something new to make. The prospect made my heart pound. Three days later, I was done and I practically skipped to my room to hang it up. After my bath that night, I laid the shirt out on his side of the bed, climbing into my own, feeling happier and more excited than I'd felt in weeks- if not months. Then, on the hour, all the lights went out and the room fell into darkness again and I smiled to myself, nearly giggling. The dip didn't come at that point like it usually did. There was some movement. He breathed deep and my face flushed as I pictured him holding the shirt to his face, breathing in the scent. I pulled the cover higher to hide my embarrassment. After a few more minutes, I heard him put the shirt on, climb into the bed, and, just like he had on a few occasions, he motioned for me to come close. I scooted a bit. I was a bit surprised when he pulled me, hugging me close. It was a far more… aggressive than anything that had occurred in the past between us. He was warm. I smiled, nuzzling his shoulder.

"You're welcome," I mumbled. It didn't take me long to fall asleep.

When I woke the following morning, I was alone again. This time, there was the shirt, folded neatly at the foot of the bed, causing me to smile and knowing that he had genuinely appreciated the gift.


	45. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The days seemed to become more quiet and lonely the longer I spent in the castle; that was until I finally worked up the nerve and courage to finally step into the music room. I couldn't fight it anymore. Too many emotions swirled in my head at the possibility but it seemed that not going in the room made everything worse; missing my family, friends, the sounds, my life. I took a deep breath. Pushing the door open caused a rush of cool hair to hit my face, blowing my bangs back up and I found it to be just as spotless as the day when I had first gone exploring in the castle. I knew no one used it. If the bear did, I never heard him. How would it be possible for him to play after all and the servants surely didn't make an attempt at leisure in plain sight at least. Therefore, the room was often alone. Like me. After months of ignoring it, I just couldn't anymore and I breathed in deeply the crisp, clean air that flew out past me and I sighed, letting go of the breath I had unconsciously been holding. It was just as I remembered it to be.

A grand piano sat at the front but I ignored it. I couldn't play even if I wanted to as it was the first one I'd ever really seen. I went straight to the wall, my eyes grazing over the instruments until they landed, once more, on the dark wood of the recorder. I licked my lips. There was no way to stop the trembling in my hand as I reached for it; the air suddenly felt charged like something magical was going to happen as soon as we connected. Nothing did though. It was cool to my touch. I remember the first time I ever held a recorder. It had been some time after Nino started learning that he offered to teach me. He was definitely pretty good at it by then. He'd managed to get a couple of simple songs out of me but we both agreed that music was definitely his area of expertise and not mine so I happily left him to the recorder while I went back to work on my sewing and building of a small business. Trepidation quivered in my core. I brought the mouthpiece up to my lips. Gently I blew. The note came out as a screech and I instantly pulled it away, rubbing my ears to get the sound out of it, before I eyed it again, placing it once more on my lips as I tried again. This time, it came out correctly.

The song was simplistic. I remembered the notes not the title and I played. It was nice. The music brought back all my memories. Us climbing trees. Sitting in the abandoned hut, running through the forest. Fresh baked bread in the morning. Maman singing in her native tongue as I tried to look over the counter. Papa panicking and pulling me away from the hot stove. Holding my hand out as I accepted the change from a customer. Laughing. Smiling. Watching as the bakery started to slowly lose business and the hope drained from my parents faces.

I hoped the bear had kept his promise.

The notes twisted with my facial expression. They became harder, lonelier. Finally, I stopped, dropping my hands with the recorder.

A sigh came from behind me.

I turned, rather suddenly, nearly dropping the instrument to the ground. The bear was behind me once more- kind of like he had been for the last several months when I was in the weaving room. His eyes are dark. His nose flared.

"You play.... good..." he struggled to force out. My cheeks flushed.

"Thank-you," I whispered. My hands tightened around the top part of it and I couldn't stop the next words from spilling out, "Nino… Nino taught me a few songs when we were younger. He was always so talented when it came to music and," my voice caught in a little giggle, "he thought he could make me just as good as him so we could tour the country together. Sadly, that didn't happen. Then Alya came along and the dream changed a bit...." I trailed off. It hurt. Goodness did it hurt. I wanted to see everyone so much again. Months locked away in a castle with no one to speak to except the bear had slowly driven me into a dark place in my mind; I was scared, frantic, and worried for everyone back home as I had no idea what was going on. What if he hadn't kept his promise? What if Maman had died from her illness and I missed saying goodbye to her? What of the Bakery? Papa? Alya? Nino? I needed to know. Desperately I needed to know. Before I could ask anything though, the bear huffed, standing. Without another word to me, he left, the same way he had arrived through the big doors and once I had been again left on my own, I stood in a numb daze, replaced the recorder to its place on the wall, and walked out.

I vowed never to step inside that room ever again.

*****  
Another month- roughly- passed.

I tried early on to keep a tab of the days but eventually they just ran together. It had to have been somewhere around my sixth month there though. I had no certain idea and was just as confused as to how long the bear intended to keep me there. My sleep schedule was completely ruined; I fell asleep whenever and wherever I desire but I would always wake up in my bedroom. I used to journal all the time in the notebook Alya had given me but even that waned. I might have touched it every few days but the entries themselves were short, rough, or I ended up just staring at the page with nothing to say. How many times could I repeat the same entry after all?

This all wasn't from lack of trying. I did try to amuse myself. I played little games in the corridors of the castle, attempted to find the servants again (though they did their equal best to avoid me at all cost), and sometimes I visited the grand library to read. Papa and Maman had made sure I was able to read in French and I was lucky that nearly all of the books in were in that language but there was an equally large amount of books in Chinese and other languages that I had not seen or heard of before. I tried to read all of them. Nothing came of it though so I just went over the words and pretended I knew what they were saying.

It was better than the silence that was still around me.

Sometimes I continued my sewing and weaving. However, after about the sixth or seventh dress I'd made, I found myself coming to a halt. Why did I need seven dresses? It was ludicrous and now tedious to work on a pattern that I had memorized which left me staring at the loom one day. Even the bear's entrance and eventual departure was not enough to get me to move. The next day, I traded out the brown and gray threads I'd been using and replaced them with brighter colors. I started moving. Even I wasn't sure what I was making until a few days later when a beautiful story tapestry came forth; it was decorated in red with a golden dragon twisting down the middle like from the stories my mother would tell me as a child. I nodded, pleased. I put the tapestry on a display not too far from me and thus began my tapestry phase. It kept my mind sharp and interested. This month in particular had seen a strong slowing of my mind. This helped.

But not all the time. Even the tapestry stories could only hold my attention so long and I found myself, again, wandering the halls, looking for either the servants or the bear. The door to the kitchen remained lock, a very strong sign that I was indeed not welcomed back in there, so I gave up on it, continued on with my journey until I found yet another locked door that I felt, just felt, was the residing place of the bear. When I tried the handle, and it didn't budge, I decided to end my quest for him and left without any answers.

I missed the outside world so much. The garden was nice but it was just as silent as the inside of the building. I missed noises and smells and people. I continually missed my family. While it was true I had free run of a castle, I was not free and knew it with every fiber of my being and I wasn't sure how long this imprisonment could last. I'd managed to figure out it was important that I stay, that much I did manage to puzzle together but the reason why only eluded me; except, I knew, that it had to do with the bear and the man that visited me nightly. I was here for them. That much I could figure out.

One day, the bear raised his head from his paws while I sat at the sewing machine. I had grown quiet in the recent days. I was out of things to talk about. He huffed at me. "Food... eat." I shook my head.

"I'm not hungry." He huffed again.

"Food."

"I'm not hungry," I emphasized. Another huff.

"Thin," he noted, "too thin. Dangerous." He was right. I hadn't been eating regularly and already my clothes hung oddly on me; I was getting thin, maybe too much so, and it certainly was dangerous but I didn't want to eat. I couldn't find the energy to. I shook my head again.

"I'm not hungry." I swallowed hard, licking my lips. "I- I can't eat. I'm too homesick. I miss my parents and friends and the life I left behind." I turned. The bear's eyes widened at the expression on my face; I could feel them, the tears, growing thick in my eyes. "Please," I begged him, "I need to go home. Just for a bit. Just to see... just to know that everything is alright. I miss them all so very much." My breathing was ragged as I finished, "Not going will kill me." I closed my eyes. I waited for the rejection to come. I knew it would. My heart was on the verge of shattering.

I jolted though when the bear's muzzle touched my neck. It was like he was trying to comfort me and I took it, hugging his muzzle as I buried my face in his soft fur. We didn't move for some time. Then he pulled back with a huff.

"Tomorrow." I blinked.

"What?"

"Pack. Tomorrow." He turned, starting to walk out. I started after him but stopped as he struggled out with, "I will... take you home... tomorrow. Pack."

For the first time in months, hope rose in my chest. I waited until he was out of the room to nearly spring into the air with an excited cheer before running back to my room to pack what few belongings I had.


	46. Alya Césaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of my favorite chapters in all honesty. I was straight crying while writing it because _the babes are happy yeah_! Of course it doesn't help that paladin-of-fandoms came through again and made a beautiful scene just seconds before the greatest moment I have ever written before. Please be sure to check it out and let Paladin know you think it's as awesome as I do!
> 
> https://paladin-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/private/168404806146/tumblr_p0rl4fqbuj1w4iljr
> 
> Enjoy!

Nino stayed true to his promise. The next letter I received from him told me that he was home and, despite having done all he could, he was going to return with the troupe in a few months to continue on with the search, hoping that something new might have occurred since he had last visited that northern town. I swallowed hard. Deep in my heart, I just knew that he wasn't going to find anything, but I told him that I eagerly awaited new information. After all, his letters brought us all hope. Hope that, one day, we might just see Marinette again.

The letter also informed me of his plans to visit us soon. He missed us just as much as her and really, the feeling was mutual. I knew the Dupain-Chengs, despite not saying anything to me about it, were hurt at having just lost two of their children in one go and the visit would do us all some good.

If only to help me loosen the guilt on my heart.

True, Tom Dupain had forgiven me but as the months rolled on, I found myself doubting my decision. Should I have let her go? Was it the right thing to do? Then there was the matter of the candles. Should I give those to her if I ever saw her again?

I still hadn't made my choice on that.

Working at the bakery did help. I helped do everything Mari would have done had she been in my place; I cleaned and baked, helped count the money and serve customers especially since every day seemed to have us so busy. M. Dupuis's ideas had really done the bakery good. It made my heart swell to know that there was somewhere for her to return and I made sure to keep it that way. Nothing was too small of a task for me. I was going to help. I made sure of that.

One day, about a day or two before Nino was to arrive, I was busy filling one of the new display cases with some fresh desserts when the door opened, a tiny gold bell letting us know of a customer's arrival. I was busy though and couldn't see clearly through the glass. I could tell it was a woman though. The dress was pretty obvious. "Welcome," I chirped. "I'll be with you in just a second." The customer laughed.

"I hope it won't take too long," she returned, "After all, I've done a lot of waiting already."

I nearly dropped the tray in my hands.

My head shot up. Smiling at me from over the display case was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

This time, I really did drop the tray which landed pretty hard on the wooden floor.

I didn't raise the countertop-door to exit the area; I just bolted right over it. She greeted me with open arms. I caught her tight, burying my face in her neck as the tears spilled forth on their own. She rocked me as I wept. I heard from behind me, a door open, a gasp, a shout, fast moving feet and another gasp. I released her smiling. Marinette's grew wider. "Maman, Papa!" The two older adults came out as well. Both caught her in the tightest hug they could. I took the moment to glance her over. She was thin. Dangerously so. Clearly she'd lost some weight and my stomach dropped; had the bear been torturing her? 

Before I could ask though, Sabine held her daughter out at arm's length, stating, "Goodness Marinette. You are so thin. Let's get you upstairs and fed." The girl did not protest. Instead, she nodded her head and allowed her mother to drag her upstairs. Tom took off his apron.

"Alya," he instructed. "Go and close the shop for now." He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Then come upstairs. I'm sure she wants to see you too." I nodded. He patted me before heading up after his wife and daughter. I don't think I could have closed the shop fast enough but once the job was done, I took the stairs nearly three at a time just to join them. Mari was sitting at the table, a bowl of her mother's soup in front of her. She ate it greedily. Meanwhile, her parents just watched her, the smiles never dimming on their faces, and, it was only once she had finished off her second bowl, did we all start to pelt her with questions.

Where did the bear take her?

What was he like?

Did he mistreat her?

Why was she so thin?

How does he use his magic?

Tom frowned though as he asked the final question, "Marinette, are you here to stay?" The three of us fell silent, mine and Sabine's smiles falling. Mari's stayed soft.

"I'm sorry," she managed out. She took a deep breath before continuing, "No, the bear doesn't mistreat me; if anything, he's the reason I'm alright. I'm thin because I haven't been eating. I can't explain why- I just haven't had the energy for it. As for my staying, I've only been given a month."

"A month," I choked out. Mari nodded and reached out, gripping my hands with hers and the other to her mother's.

"I know," she continued softly. "But there's something going on with him. He needs me there. I know I can help him." She sighed again, releasing the both of us. "That's it. That's all I can tell you. I made a promise to not say anything else." We didn't bother to ask anything further. We knew that once Marinette said she had made a promise, there was no way she was going to break it. That left us to talk about the things that had happened since she had left; M. Dupuis and the bakery, Sabine's recovered health, and I informed her of Nino's travels. She clapped her hands together at that and said she would really like to see the troupe before but I frowned and informed her that they wouldn't travel again until after she was gone. She only laughed and said she would have to catch them once she returned home. None of us commented on that statement.

After about an hour or so, I left. I was feeling better than I had in months. Wait until Nino arrived and saw the good news!

There came only one blight on this happy occasion. Upon returning to my room, I saw the candle and flint the old seer had given me and my heart twisted.

Just what was I to do with them?


	47. Tom Dupain

The following morning felt like a dream. It didn't seem real. Marinette. Our Marinette was home. I jolted awake from the bed I was currently lying on; it wasn't my marriage bed, it was hers and the room was certainly not mine. I looked around before rubbing my eyes. There were already sounds coming from the kitchen area so I went there, finding my wife stuffing my daughter with a ridiculous amount of food which Marinette sneakily slid to me when she wasn't looking. We got caught anyway. A wooden spoon lightly touched on both of our knuckles and we smiled at each other and once Sabine was done cooking, she joined us at the table. We talked animatedly for a little bit. Then, the question came back.

"Marinette," Sabine asked, "Do you really only have to stay a month? Why can't it be any longer?" I put my bread down. Marinette chewed what she had slowly before finally answering the question.

"Yes Maman. I'm sorry. The bear let me come home on a couple of conditions- one being that I don't share my life with him to any of you and that I return at the end of one month." She paused, seeming to contemplate the next words that came from her mouth. "I can't tell you why but I know... well, I just know that the bear has a good reason for having me stay with him. There's some kind of... magic on the place."

"But he hasn't told you," I cut in, angry. She blinked and shook her head.

"I don't think he can Papa." She looked at Sabine, unsure how to explain it. My wife cleared her throat.

"Tom, magic comes with rules," she explained. "I have not been anywhere where this was not true. I'm sure the bear, if he is magicked or cursed, has a condition in which he can't tell her the requirements of the spell or how to break it." I sighed at her words.

"Alright." I gently patted her hand. "What matters is that you're here now so we need to make the best of the time that we do have." She smiled, gripping my hand back.

"Of course Papa." I nodded.

"We'll keep the bakery closed today." She started.

"Oh please don't!" I blinked. She blushed. "If- if it's alright Papa, I actually want to work today. I missed it to be honest." My smile returned.

"Let's finish breakfast and get to it." She nodded, turning back to her food. I stared at her for a few moments. A mix of emotions rose in my heart. Marinette was such a kind and brave soul; it made sense for her to want to help the creature who essentially kidnapped her and while that thought made me upset, I was still proud of her for making the choice. Maybe this was the exact moment I needed. A chance to come to peace with what had happened. To what would happen. I sighed, returning to my food and Sabine raised her eyebrow at me. Later, she would tell me it was my fault. The only reason Marinette was any way or shape like this was because of me. She got her goodness, and apparent love an adventure, from my side of the family and I could only laugh, kissing her temple, and agree.

A knock came from downstairs sometime later after we had started to clean up. I headed down to see who it was. Standing outside the door was Nino, his signature red cap pushed back on his head as he examined the locked door. Clearly he was confused, unaware of our new hours or why we had decided to open just a bit late that day. I opened the door to him and he jumped, surprised. "Welcome home Nino," I greeted, holding my hand out to him. The boy- er, young man- regained himself and he smiled, catching my hand in a firm greeting.

"Mr. Dupain," he returned. "Glad to be back." We released each other. "I was looking for Alya and I thought the bakery would be open by now...."

"Alya helps with the main store mostly. Sabine and I do the baking early in the morning so she won't be here for another hour or so." He nodded.

"Alright. I'll just surprise her at her place. Thank you sir." He started to turn but I called out, "Wait a moment Nino. Won't you come in? Sabine would be more than happy to see you as well." He paused but smiled, nodding.

"Of course. I'd like to see her as well." I moved out of the way but held the door open for him. He removed his cap upon entry. I motioned to the stairs once the door was secured again and he went up first. I asked him about his travels and he started excitedly explaining everything that had happened since he went traveling and he even managed to apologize for not being able to find Marinette.

I told him it was perfectly alright.

He was confused by that for a moment until he came out at the top and headed into the kitchen where Sabine was clearly using the tub to scrub the dishes. He froze. Sabine, of course, wasn't doing the dishes alone. Marinette turned when she heard us come in. Her face lit up. She dried her hands on her apron as she ran around the table to catch him in a tight hug. He hugged her back. I heard him murmuring apologies the whole time but I only smiled at Sabine who came to join me; the two of us left quietly back downstairs to start the baking while the two of them remained at the table, catching up for the last several months.

Finally, everything felt complete again.


	48. Nino Lahiffe

I couldn't believe my eyes. To say I was confused at first would have been an understatement but once I realized that it was real, that she was standing there in front of me, sent me flying. We hugged. We talked. Tom and Sabine, both I was all too glad to see doing better, left us to talk. And talk we did. I asked her about where she was. She told me only the minimum, explaining that she was bound by a promise to not say much and I only nodded in understanding, not willing to admit that it hurt a bit that she wasn't going to share anything with me. She then asked me about my travels and I told her everything. Even about how I had searched for her. She smiled then, patting my hand, tears clearly in her eyes as she whispered to me a, "Thank you." I nodded. Hours had passed by then. Tom and Sabine returned, Alya in tow now as she had come to work, and together, the five of us had an enjoyable lunch and somewhere in the middle of this, someone suggested that I spend the month that Marinette was here with them. I couldn't have agreed more. I wrote a quick letter home to my parents to let them know. Once done, I smiled, rolled up my sleeve, and decided to help at the bakery.

The next day that we had off was a week later. Tom looked at the three of us one day. "You kids have been a big help. Why don't you all take today off and go catch up?" His eyes glistened and softened. "Time will go faster than you think." We froze.

A week had already past.

Marinette, standing next to Alya kneading some dough, tightened her hold on it. Alya touched her hand gently. She looked up, her eyes just as wet as her father’s but not falling. She gave the other girl a gentle smile before releasing it, wiping her hands on her apron, before removing it. We followed suit. Marinette stopped long enough to give Tom a kiss on the cheek and a bright, "Thank you Papa" and to grab a basket of food from Sabine who appeared out of the back room, kissing her as well. Alya linked arms with her. We said our farewells and left. None of us said anything. We knew where we were going.

The hut was a little more rundown. Vines grew up the outside walls. Parts of the roof seemed to have collapsed in and I sighed, wondering if it would be worth it to try and repair any of it.

"It looks so sad," Marinette whispered. We stared at it for a moment. Truly, our childhood was gone and the months that had passed had changed who we were. Yet, here we were. I took a deep breath.

"Then let's make it not sad anymore," I returned. I opened the door and held it for them. They entered. Inside was just as bad as the outside. Where the roof had fallen in, rotting debris and water damage could be found. Animals had moved back in. Alya released Marinette. She went to one of the cabinets and pulled out the candles we had hidden there. While she lit them, Mari and I laid out the lunch on a blanket that had been packed and once everything was ready, we sat down to eat and talk, enjoying the time that we had. At one point I pulled out my flute and began to play, which prompted the two of them to stand and prance around in a merry little jig until it came to an end, them bowing to each other before collapsing to the ground in a fit of giggles. I smiled. Once they settled down, Mari sat up, clearing her throat.

"Alya, Nino, there's something I have to tell you." She fidgeted. "I...," she licked her lips, "Promise me that neither of you will tell my parents?"

"I promise," Alya nodded, gently touching her hand. I nodded.

"I promise too." That made her smile and her shoulders slump in relief.

"Everything is fine at the castle," she whispered, "except... at night... someone joins me in my bed." Alya gasped and I nearly shot up.

"What," I hissed. "That bear allows that?" She fidgeted again.

"I think.... I think the bear is the one that joins me." Alya leaned her head to the side.

"Wouldn't you be able to tell?" She shook her head.

"It's a man. I know it. He... well, he hugged me at one point because I started to freak out. We don't talk and we don’t really touch." She fidgeted again. “But he has hugged me a few times since then as a thank you or to calm me down.” She tells us then how it all started, the nightly arrivals, the shirt, the sleeping, the empty bed in the morning, and, more oddly, the fact that no fire could be lit in the room once the man had joined her. I noticed though, an odd look appear on Alya's face. I made note to ask her about it. When she finished, Mari stated, "I can't explain it. I can't explain how I know that there's a reason for me to be there and why I have to go back. I have to help him." I nodded.

"I understand." I patted her hand. "You're just that amazing kind of person Marinette. I'll be here though to support you no matter what alright?" She nodded, catching me in a hug. Alya remained quiet. I sighed, "I'm just glad you're doing this of your own free will."

"Yes," she smiled. Looking up, she blinked. "Oh wow. We've been here for half a day already?" I looked. The glow coming from the window was definitely orange as the sun was setting. Mari stood, dusting off her skirt, and grabbing for the basket. "I'm going to head home."

"We'll head back shortly," I promised her. "I need to speak to Alya for a moment." Mari's face brightened to a smile and she giggled before shooting me a wink.

"Alright. Be safe you two!" She left. Silence fell on the two of us for a few moments until I turned to face Alya. Her eyes were glazed over. She was clearly lost in thought. Slowly, I reached out and brushed a bit of the loose hair off of her forehead which woke her a bit and she looked up at me, coming back, her eyes wet with the tears that weren't going to fall. She shot forward. Her arms wrapped around my waist and her face buried into my chest. I nearly fell over but caught myself, wrapping my arms around her as well. We sat there for a few seconds before she finally looked up at me.

"What's wrong Alya," I soothed. Her lip quivered.

"Nino, I'm scared. I'm scared for Marinette." She paused.

"What do you mean Alya?"

She sniffed. "What if something goes wrong? What if Marinette can't help the bear or what if she gets cursed too?"

"She didn't say it...."

"Come on Nino. A man who turns into a bear in the day? It obviously has to be a curse." I placed a hand on her head.

"Even if that's true, it's Marinette we're talking about. I trust her."

"But what if... what if...." She started to breathe hard. Her hands shook as they moved to grab the front of my shirt. "What if... what if...."

I didn't know what to do. She was shaking so badly and nothing I did, hugging and petting, didn't work.

So, I kissed her.

Honestly it was a horrible situation to do that in. I hated it. I hated that that was the first time we kissed. I hated that the reason why I had to do it. Looking at my boys now, I make sure to let them know that kissing a girl for any reason out of her permission was horrible. I'm still sick about it years later.

But it worked. She seemed to be grounded again. We parted. Now the two of us were breathing a bit hard but she was clearly calmer. She stared up at me. I could only blush but I managed to stutter out, "S-sorry. I didn't know what else to do." I cleared my throat. "But we have to trust her Alya. Mari's got a good head on her shoulders and we both know that she'll figure it out no matter what. She's that type of person." Her face was shocked. Then she laughed.

"Nino, none of us have ever seen something like this!"

"Of course not. However, we can't just discount Marinette just because we've not seen it before." She nodded but her hand tightened on my shirt again.

"Nino, I.... I'm worried. Not about Marinette," she cut me off. I clamped my mouth shut as she finished. "I think I'm going to do something bad." She explained to me about the candles, about the woman who had appeared and disappeared but had had knowledge on Marinette's situation. When she finished, I hummed. Petting her head again, I finally managed to get out, "Alya, whatever you decide to do, know that I trust you and I'll support you." She smiled and leaned up, kissing my cheek.

"Thank-you Nino." She stood. I followed. We grabbed our belongings and started to leave, the sun down by this time. We held hands and she returned to herself, talking animatedly about something but I only made the minimum amount of conversation.

I was thinking.

And worried.

Those candles bothered me and I couldn't exactly pinpoint way.

And that scared me more than anything else.


	49. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I didn't write much at this time. I spent a majority of it with my parents and friends that I almost forgot about the journal that Alya had given me. However, I didn't but I wanted that journal to be special. I saved it mostly for the castle.

I do, however, need to make note of what it is the bear warned me about.

Like I had on the arrival to the castle, I rode on his back in the sleepy, dream-like state that told me I was definitely having magic put on me. This time though, I was queasy. We were forced to stop a couple of days short of my hometown so I could take a break. The bear tried his best to explain what was happening. From what I gathered, those who have been magicked in the past, and then magicked again later on, grow a sensitivity to it which could result in things like nausea. Only constant magicking could help build a resistance to it. There was no plan to, of course, constantly do this with me but he would attempt to back it off for this ride for the remainder of the way in order to ensure that it would be more comfortable for me. I sipped my water. Once done, I held the tin cup in front of me, "Thank you." He nodded.

We fell silent for a time. He cleared his throat. "Marinette... a warning." I sat up.

"A warning?" He huffed and lowered his head.

"You... can only stay... until the next moon cycle. Bad things... will happen if you... do not return." My face paled. A month. I only had a month. Instead of commenting, I bit my lip and nodded. He huffed, pleased with this answer before continuing on, "Do not... speak of your time at.... the castle."

"Alright," I promised.

"They will beg... you to stay... do not agree."

"I promise I won't." Honestly, I had grown somewhat comfortable in my life at the castle even if I was depressed with it. I would miss it greatly. I knew I couldn't stay. My answers seemed to please him; his shoulders slumped and he dropped his head. Standing from my place across the fire from him, I moved to lay beside him, my back nearly disappearing into his side. His head shot up, surprised. I yawned. "It's cold," I explained. The bear huffed again but before he dropped his head, he had one more warning to add.

"Marinette," he struggled, "be careful... with your friend. The girl named Alya." It was my turn to shoot up. I sat up straight, staring into his eyes and I could see the human intelligence sparkling there. And the pleading. However, his face grew dim and I could also see the struggle that he was having at speaking. I was concerned yes. But I also knew that once the magic began to take its toll, there wasn't much I could do. I merely bit my lip and nodded. He lowered his head, relieved, before he quickly fell asleep. I stayed up though, thinking.

Eventually I too fell asleep.


	50. Alya Césaire

A month went by way too quickly.

We were all hyper-aware of its passage, more so than usual, and as the days crept by, we tried to keep the looming darkness at bay as much as we could with what little mental fortitude we had. With ample warning, the day arrives. The day of both of their departures.

My chest felt tight that night, realizing that, once more, I was going to be left alone.

We'd done everything we could think to do in our time together. We attended a small traveling carnival together, went to the hut daily, worked at the bakery, listened to Nino play his flute, and I even shared with them the information that I had managed to gather about polar bears. Marinette was deeply impressed. I did, however, get the feeling that the information was a bit pointless to her considering that, if she was right, it was a man she was living with and not an actual bear. Still, she thanked me. I only smiled as I took the book back from her.

Nino and I left the Dupain-Chengs to a dinner of their own the night before her departure. We ate with my family. We were all somber. It hurt, just the thought of their leaving, but what hurt even more was my indecisiveness. I stared at the candles and flint at night. I wasn't sure what to do and for a month, I wrestled with my mind and heart about what it was I needed to do. Finally, I decided what to do.

That morning, I grabbed them both and stuffed them in my bag. Nino was awake just as early as I was and we both headed to the bakery, which we found still closed, but opened to us by Marinette with a soft smile that didn't reach her eyes. We hugged. Then they hugged. We all went upstairs, joining them for a light breakfast. Tom announced that the bakery was going to be closed for the day and we all nodded, more than happy to just spend the hours we had left in each other's company and while we all tried to smile, it didn't feel genuine. At one point, Marinette told us that she was to meet the bear north of town in the afternoon at the lake where they had first met many years ago (but only me, Nino, and the bear knew that). Nino and I agreed to take her which we did when the hour arrived. Tom and Sabine saw us off from the front door of the bakery, hugging the two of them tightly, and patting my head before they watched us walk down the cobblestone road. I linked arms with Mari and held her tight. I stopped walking. This stopped her. Nino kept walking until he realized that we weren't there and he stopped, turning to face us. I smiled at him, squeezing her arm.

"We'll be right there," I told him. "I need to speak to Marinette real quick." He hesitated but nodded, turning to walk up the road. I released her arm. She leaned her head to the side and I could see the confusion on her face. "Mari... I want to give you something." My hands were shaking as I opened my bag to hand her the candle and flint. She eyed them confused. I smiled just as weakly. "Just in case."

She blinked but smiled, placing them in her own bag. "Thank you Alya. I'm sure it will be alright." She didn't hand them back though. I thought it would make me feel better but for some reason... the moment didn't. I kept quiet though.

"Alya, Mari," Nino called. We turned and he motioned to us to come. We did; upon cresting the hill, we were able to see the lake again and it sparkled in the winter snow. Our breathes came out in gentle white puffs. It was hard to see at first but movement caught our attention and a smile broke out on Marinette's face as our eyes landed on the polar bear.

He was just as massive as I remembered him being and just like with us, his breath came out in large white puffs. He shook before ducking his head to the exposed water, drinking. Mari sighed. She turned then and hugged the two of us. "Be safe you two," she wished us.

"You too," I whispered. Nino nodded and placed a hand around my waist as we watched her climb down the cliff to the lake, running up to the bear. He turned his head. Even at such a distance I could see the relief that came over his expression at seeing her. They talked for a moment. Marinette turned and waved to us once more before she climbed on his back and he slowly trudged away. We watched until they were no longer in sight. I sniffed. Nino placed his forehead on mine, kissing my nose.

"It'll be alright," he promised me. "I'll be back soon. The troupe is going to start traveling again but when I get some time off, I'll be sure to come back." I sniffed again.

"I know. I'll keep writing too. Promise." I hesitated. Then I slowly stood on tiptoe, placing my lips softly on his. We didn't stay too long like that. The first time. The second time, after he regathered himself, was the best kiss we'd had yet; it was the one I personally considered our first as the one at the beginning of the month was only meant to calm me, and the one before this was my way of giving him permission to actually kiss me.

We pulled apart. He softly brushed his fingers down the side of my face. "I love you," he told me.

I smiled. "I love you too."

A few minutes later, I watched my second friend walk away, disappearing down the road that had suddenly become much colder and darker than I had thought it could become.


	51. Polar Bear

Waiting and hoping.

Heart firmly in my throat.

Will she come?

Will she stay?

She appears with others.  
A smile, some sadness.  
She hugs them.  
Come back.

I feel her as she climbs on.  
She grips my fur tightly as we leave.

My heart is pounding.

My lady came back.


	52. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

My time at home was not wasted. I was refreshed, true, but I was also was given a lot to think about; while I had been certain to tell everyone that there was something more with the bear than what we could see, I hadn't been sure of my own words until I had spent more time speaking with them. Those conversations helped me to finally come to terms with the idea that there was something really important for me to do. Since the bear was using less magic on me on the ride back, I was able to think more clearly. I thought back on what I had seen in the castle. From what I had been able to observe, I could put two and two together but I didn't have enough. I had to find more.

I knew exactly what I needed to do.

When we finally returned, I slid off the bear's back. I turned to him, asking softly, "Will I be able to visit them again?" I guess the traveling and magic was too much. He only responded in a huff before lumbering off into the castle. My heart soared though.

He hadn't said anything but neither had he denied it.

I was going to go home again.

I just didn't know when.

That thought, plus the idea of discovering the answer to the curse that was laid on this castle, seemed to make the days fly by faster even though we did return to the routine we had had prior to my departure home. My first steps were to learn more about the bear himself. His thoughts and actions. His hopes and dreams. Anything really. I didn't know too much as it was since, when we were together, I was the one who did a majority of the talking. The magic didn't let him speak either. It seemed that he was getting worse, tired more easily, as the months passed. He started showing up less and less in the day time. I decided that since I couldn't talk to him, or really observe him anymore, I decided to turn to the servants. It was hard at first to find them as the kitchen was now constantly locked from my presence. However, I did watch. I did learn. I began to notice patterns.

Their day started in the kitchen. They made food for the whole day or at least began to. Then, they would divide up to clean the rooms; usually the red and black one would work together but it would turn into a shouting match because the black one seemed to be rather lazy and the red one was left to clean their assigned rooms on her own. When she started, she didn't stop until everything was done. He, though, would find the sunniest place to lay and stay there, nonchalantly throwing off every reprimand she had for him until she finally got fed up and left. Sometimes, the green one, who appeared to be the leader of the trio, would arrive and make the black one clean; the fear on his face was bit apparent as his ears laid flat on his head and he mumbled something about having to work. It was also the green one who frequently caught me looking and made sure that they all disappeared before I could say or do anything. I had to find one of them without the green one. Either the black or red one. Preferably the red one. She seemed more reliable at least.

So I watched.

And waited.

And waited.

Then about two weeks later, I finally caught her alone, cleaning the shelves of one of the libraries. I walked into the room and found her there, so busy that she failed to hear or acknowledge the opening of the door. I shut it. It made a soft click and she turned abruptly, nearly dropping the feather duster she was using. She bowed and started to leave but I stepped in the way. Her eyes widened. "Please," I begged. "Please wait." She leaned her head to the side.

"Brir?" It was my turn to blink. Then it hit me: she had her own language. That's why they hadn't understood me upon my arrival and it made me swallow hard but I took a deep breath. I pointed to myself.

"My name's Marinette. Marinette," I repeated. She hesitated but eventually pointed to herself and replied, "Tikki."

"It's nice to meet you Tikki." I smiled brightly. She leaned her head to the side but returned the smile. I guess she figured out what I was after. I offered a hand and she took it. We went around then as I pointed to each thing, I said it and waited until she repeated it in her own terms. It was pleasant. I learned a few words and it was fair to say that she learned a lot more than I did and over the next several weeks, it became apparent. After we had spent enough time doing that, I helped her clean with a promise to keep it from Wayzz (the green one). We parted ways with a secret promise to meet again to practice.

"Qaabxie," she mumbled, stepping out of the room. Apparently it meant "goodbye."

At first, the nightly visits didn't start up right away but the first night that they did again, I was lying in bed and the flames all went out. The bed dipped. I smiled, bravely moving closer to the man, reaching out a hand to gently touch him. He flinched at first but then sighed, his body relaxing. I didn't say anything. I only gently clasped his cheek before moving away once more and falling asleep. It was peaceful. I didn’t realize how much I had missed this and I knew, just from his reaction, that he had missed it just as much and it made my heart tighten.

That night though, I had the first nightmare. It started normal enough. Us in bed. However, I lit the candle that Alya had given me with the flint and held it high. When I did, I raised it over his head, only to reveal a monster laying there. The wax dripped. It landed on its bare skin. Its eyes shot open. They were pure red. I gasped. Its mouth opened, ear to ear, and revealed rows upon rows of sharp teeth. It growled. Then it lunged and I shot up in bed, sweat matting on my forehead.

I could tell it was early in the morning. The cold seeped into my bones and I raised the covers higher to fight it off and that’s when I noticed that it was too easy. Looking over, I found that the man was gone. I grew concerned. The covers were messed up, not made like they usually were, and, even worse, was the polar bear shirt. It was in a pile at the foot of the bed. I climbed up to grab it. Holding it up, I realized that it was wrinkled and made a note to wash it later with my clothing; I held it close to my chest, the fear sinking in as I realized that something was extremely wrong and it probably had something to do with the curse. I was running out of time. 

I jumped out of the bed. I was ready to get to work. The following months included a lot of learning sessions between me and Tikki. We kept these meetings secret from Wayzz. They went all pretty much the same. We met in a different room each time and just went around, pointing to objects and naming them in each of our languages. Sometimes, Plagg (the black one) would arrive and join in. I noticed that of the two of us, she was learning much faster than I was (which was fantastic as it meant I could start asking harder questions) but they revealed to me that the only reason that they were learning so fast was because of their magie.

“It gives us our abilities,” Tikki admitted. Plagg, who was lying on the sunny window sill again, only nodded in agreement, his tail swishing back and forth off the side. “It is why we are able to do what we do.”

“Can one learn how to do magie?”

“Only if they are born with it in them.” She patted my hand. “You have some ability. It is faint and weak but you should be able to do a few minor spells.” My face lightened.

“Really? Could you teach me?”

“You can barely learn our language,” Plagg grumbled. “How will you learn a spell?” I glared at him and Tikki threw her rag. He flicked it away with his tail. 

“Hush Plagg. She is learning quickly for a mortel. The Language of the Trolls is not that easily mastered by human voices.” She cleared her throat and turned back to me. “We can turn the words from Troll to your tongue. It should still work.” I nodded, excitement racing throughout my system. Before we could begin though, I cleared my throat.

“Before that, may I ask you two something?” They shared a look but didn’t stop me as I asked, “Can you tell me what is going on with the bear?”

“No,” Plagg responded quickly. He actually turned, sitting up in his spot and staring at me rather seriously. His eyes glowed a bright green. I wanted to hunch away from him but didn’t. “I’m sorry Marinette. We can say nothing. His life will be in danger if we do. Please,” he begged, “just promise to stay. Do not hunt for answers anymore.” I bit my lip. It was such an earnest request that I nodded and agreed to; he returned the nod, rolling back over. The discussion was over. Tikki, who had been looking away, clapped her hands. 

“Let us start with a simple lighting spell! I think I translated the words pretty accurately.” She pulled from her apron a tiny crystal that looked like ice and she held it out, letting it go to float between the two of us. “In our language, the spell says Liqaz mar Trasth.” It spun, a soft glow sparkling from within it and when it stopped, it continued to float but was definitely no longer glowing. “In your tongue, it would be Light of Truth.” She motioned to her stomach. “Close your eyes and reach for the magic within you, ask the light to come from the jewel.” I nodded, closing my eyes. The world seemed to spin in the darkness but I reached into myself, looking for something that resembled magic; I found it, as a pool of pinkish energy sitting somewhere at my core. It was so small. I reached for it.

“Light of Truth.” There was a gasp. I opened my eyes to find the jewel spinning. A wide grin broke out on our faces and we cheered, hugging each other tight. The jewel stopped spinning. Tikki caught it and held it out for me. I blinked. “For me?”

“Yes, you will need to practice. Practice will make you stronger.” I nodded and gratefully took it. I halfway wondered if the magic would work at night but I stopped, remembering the promise I had made Plagg. I felt uneasy. I still had the candles and flint but I now had this promise and it made me worried as to what I needed to do. Once more, my head was spinning and I was certain I was going to lose control at some point. 

Our session ended. When the next one occurred, I didn’t mention the polar bear at all.


	53. Chloé Bourgeois

I commend the girl on being rather bright. Almost infuriating so. 

But she was still a fool. 

And fools always mess up.

Soon, soon my polar bear would be free of his skin and back at my side. Once he was, he would quickly forget about the human girl he was desperate to be with, the girl he so deeply loved.

Soon, I would be the center of his world.


	54. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Wayzz somehow figured out that we were meeting in secret to learn about each other. Maybe one of them accidently spoke French to him or they let it slip or he saw us. I don’t know. I never did learn. The point being was that my sessions with Tikki and Plagg came to a rather abrupt end and I was definitely not allowed to see or speak to them ever again.

The kitchen door remained locked. Plus, he changed their schedules regularly so I wasn’t able to guess where they were going.

I nearly screamed in frustration. Tikki had managed to teach me a few magic spells and I had been practicing them alone in my room before the arrival of my sleeping-mate. There was no way I could practice in the daytime as I feared the bear would arrive and order me to stop so I was left to resume the activities I had been doing prior to my return home. I made a few more practical dresses, some shirts for Papa, a new elegant outfit for both Maman and Alya, but when that grew tedious, I attempted to learn newer and harder music on the flute.

I’m absolutely horrible.

The bear still showed up for my sessions. Only, this time, he visibly covered his ears at the bad notes. Still, he provided me with more music, and a silent order to practice, before he lumbered out again. I only smiled and set to work. I was more determined than ever to get at least one song done that he would like. 

I think part of why I kept messing up, besides the fact I had a very low musical talents, were the restless nights. True my sleeping-mate was there and occasionally he would comfort me (especially when they were their most violent and scary) but it didn’t change the fact that they were happening. They were always the same too. The dark room. The candle. A monster. It attacks. I wake up screaming. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Almost nightly. Not every dream I had was bad; sometimes I would roll him over and there would be the face of an angel sleeping next to me. His hair was golden. His face was smooth and without blemish and his lips look like they are made of the softest materials. I wanted to kiss him. I started to. Then the dream would shift and once more, I was in a nightmare. His eyes would shoot open and the monster returned. He lunged and grabbed for my throat and once more, I awoke, screaming.

It didn’t know what do.

It was beginning to drive me crazy. Eventually it seeped into my waking hours and, even worse, I began to hesitate and doubt the man that climbed into my bed every night. The day time was much better. I spent it in his company, remembering his promise to not hurt me. He was sweet. And kind. We’d even taken to sitting on the red couch in the dining room after dinner, reading a story from the library, which I really enjoyed as it kept me from my bed.

However, when I dozed, he would end the session immediately and usher me there.

Thus the process would repeat itself again.

One night, the dream reached its worse. He lunged for me but this time, I could see him tearing out my throat, my body unable to move. I was dead and his eyes looked gleefully on at my limp body, as if it was what he wanted the whole time. His promise was out the window. It no longer mattered. He was a monster and I was his prey.

I woke up but no scream would come from my throat. I was covered in sweat and I shook violently. My sleeping-mate did not stir. 

I had enough.

I had to know.

In the end table next to my bed, I had carefully concealed the candle and flint Alya had given me and in my desperation, I pulled them out. Quietly I lit it. The flame, surprisingly, flickered to life, casting a soft glow about the room. I held it high over him, just as I had in my dream. My face paled.

Lying before me was no monster. It was a man, about my same age, with hair the color of the sun and skin as beautiful as the finest china. I leaned closer to get a better look at him, wishing that I could see what color his eyes were as I was sure they were just as beautiful as the rest of him.

In doing so, the candle tipped, pouring hot wax on the front of his shirt.


	55. Chloé Bourgeois

It is done.

After nearly two hundred human years, it was done.

The fool girl has done it.

It took all my strength and willpower to not shout out like a heathen or a lower Troll. The happiness that warmed my belly nearly appeared in the form of my magie but I swallowed it down, determined to not let such a childish thing stop me. I called for Sabrina who shuffled in with her head bowed. I waved my hand. “Fetch my sleigh,” I ordered. “We ride to the southern lands at once.” Her eyes went wide. She knew what it meant and she left just as she had arrived but much faster.

Within minutes we were on our way, traveling across the snow and ice.

Finally. 

Finally!

My husband was mine for the taking.


	56. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I knew the instant the light had crossed his face that I had done something horribly wrong.

As soon as the wax touched the front of the shirt, it immediately grew into one giant spot, and his eyes shot open.

They were the clearest green color I’d ever seen before.

He sat up, pawing at his chest to stop the pain and in a few seconds, it ended. His eyes, once he was done examining that there was no damage, turned on me and they were so wide, I could see the very emotions of his soul. Anger. Fear. Hate. Confusion.

Betrayal. 

He reached for me then. Grabbing my shoulders, he gently shook me, the candle nearly slipping from my grasp as he did but I held it tight as he begged of me, “What have you done?” I blinked. I wasn’t sure how to answer. Suddenly, there was a loud -pop- and we were no longer in my room; now we sat outside in the snow which whipped around us in a fury, blowing my hair into my face, extinguished the candle. He hugged me tight, trying to stop the wind from hitting me. It was no good. Every inch of my body felt like it was freezing in that moment, it probably was. Then, the snow just stopped. It fell in gentle swirls to the earth and quieted, turning the world around us silent. He released me. He stood. I reached for him confused.

“I have to go Marinette,” he croaked out. I stood, holding to his hand for dear life, completely and utterly confused. “I have to go. I have no choice.”

“Go,” I whispered, “Go where?” He turned, his eyes locking with mine, dull and lifeless now.

“I must go with the Queen. I go east of the Sun and west of the Moon.” Off in the distance, there came the sound of many little bells and we turned, revealing a grand beast trotting up to us followed by the biggest, most ornate sleigh I had ever seen before. It was red in color, accented in gold, and in it were clearly two figures. I stood beside him, refusing to let go of his hand.

I wasn’t given a choice.

The sleigh and its passengers stopped short by about fifty feet. The polar bear man pulled himself away from me.

I was shocked. I could see the tall, blond, beautiful woman sneering at me from where she now stood in the sleigh. Wayzz, Plagg, and Tikki all too came from the castle. Wayzz and Tikki kept their heads bowed. Plagg, however, glared at me, and mumbled, “Why didn’t you keep your promise?” It hit me. I was the cause of this. I was the cause of their pain and suffering. The polar bear man stopped at the entrance to the sleigh. She opened the door for him and ushered him in, immediately wrapping him in a thick fur blanket. His eyes drooped. He slumped into the seat next to her where she leaned his head on her shoulder, toying with his exposed hair; she whispered something to him and his eyes close completely. The three servants climb into the back and disappeared from my sight.

The sleigh began to turn.

“Wait,” I screamed. My body had found itself again. I ran. I ran as hard as I could but both the beast and vehicle had been designed for snow; I didn’t stand a chance as I slipped and fell.

My vision was blurry but I could hear, just rising over the returning wind, the clear laughter of the woman in gold.

She had won.

The storm returned with its original ferocity.

I was left alone.


	57. Chloé Bourgeois

I had never been happier in my nearly six hundred years of existence. My husband - no longer bound to that despicable bear body - slept next to me, bundled in the finest fur blanket the palace had to provide. He was as beautiful as I remembered him to be. Time had been a wonderful thing. No longer were his cheeks round with youth or his eyes two beautiful round orbs; here laid a man who had aged well into himself and well into being my husband. I gently stroked his hair as Sabrina directed the sleigh back north.

The magie I had casted would soon take effect. That fool girl would soon be nothing him; not even a memory.

He would be mine, body, mind, and soul, forever.

The three servants in the back remained quiet as they were expected to. Their purpose was done. Originally I had planned to leave them to die at the castle but they had taken excellent care of my husband over the years and there were always more menial tasks at the palace that their lives still had some use in them. No longer would they serve him. He would only get the best.

My Thomas always deserved the best and I would always provide it for him.

Now until the end of eternity.


	58. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

It was too easy to just sit there in the raging storm and let the cold take me. I felt numb both inside and out. Behind me, the castle loomed in the darkness, looking more intimidating than it had ever looked before; it was my fault, my fault, my fault, MY FAULT! I slammed my fist on the ground. It hurt. I raised my hands, staring at the blood that oozed from the cut that I’d given myself. Apparently the pain was what I needed. It woke me up long enough for me to weakly stand and make my way back inside the massive doors.

The inside was just as cold as the outside. 

The wind’s howling could still be heard from where I stood in the entryway, my back pushed up against the massive double doors. I slid to the floor, circling my arms around my knees, sobbing into them. What had I done? He had trusted me and I had destroyed that trust! I was a fool. Everything was so messed up.

You can go home, a voice in my mind told me. Go home to the bakery. Resume your life there. Forget this ever happened.

I stood. Slowly, I shuffled my way through the castle. While the halls had been silent before, now they were too loud with the howling wind; I was sure this wasn’t the castle’s first time experiencing a winter storm but with its occupants gone, it no longer felt the need to shelter itself from it. Each hall brought with it painful memories. My first days. The weaving room. Meeting Tikki and Plagg. Sitting with the polar bear. Him. The nights. Him. My mistake. I messed up. Big time. I sniffed as the thoughts circled hard in my head. Using the sleeve of my nightgown, I wiped them away. Still the voice in my mind persisted. It was time to go home. 

I returned to the room where we had been sleeping. My bag was still there as were all of my clothing. I packed quickly, changing from the flimsy nightgown I had been in, into much warmer clothes. I remembered to grab the journal Alya had given me and was thankful to find that the three dresses I had made were still inside. It went to the middle of my bag for protection. 

Once everything was ready, I hoisted the bag on my shoulder. The voice in my head cheered. Home! We’re going home!

“Shut-up,” I screamed. Everything went silent, the thoughts stopping dead in their tracks. I gritted my teeth. “We are not going home. We can’t.” I walked back down the halls, my footsteps echoing in the silence, reaching for the front door.

And why not?

I shook my head. “I messed up. I really messed up.”

But he wanted to go. He was so quick to pull away from you. 

“Only because he had no choice,” I cried. The tears were falling down my face. They froze as soon as I flung the door open to the winter night. I wrapped my black dotted traveling cloak close around me. I breathed deep. “I command thee cloak, to keep me warm.” It glowed a bit and I felt warmer already. I stepped out into the cold.

The voice in my head screamed for me to stop. I didn’t. With each footstep, it became more desperate, more insistent that I go home. Finally, I had enough. I stamped my foot and screamed, “I am going! It’s my mistake to fix. I will fix this. If I leave him,” my voice broke, “If I leave him, he’ll never be free again.”

Do you even know where to go?

“Nope,” I chirped. Starting forward, I huddled against my cloak as I pushed through the wind and I muttered to the voice, “All I know is ‘east of the Sun and west of the Moon.’ I don’t know what that means but I am going to do this and you are very welcomed to leave!”

And it did.

The voice, whether it was my own internal voice or an outside one, disappeared.

Now I was really left alone.

I huffed. Hoisting my bag again, I gathered my strength, ready for the journey ahead of me, even if I didn’t exactly know which way I was going to go.

I was going to get my bear back one way or another.


	59. Alya Césaire

I shot up out of my bed, screaming for my parents. They came rushing in, Maman hugging me tight around the shoulders while she rocked me; Papa held a candle up to light up the room while the twins hugged his waist. They shared a look of concern. When I calmed enough, I sniffed, cleaning my face with a handkerchief that Maman offered to me. 

“What is wrong ma petite,” she soothed, stroking my hair.

“I-I think I did something bad Maman,” I sobbed. “I think Marinette’s in danger!”

“Shhhhh Marinette is alright. She’s off visiting her mother’s relatives. I’m sure she’ll be home soon and prove to you that everything is alright.” I nodded but still buried my face in her shoulder.

Marinette wasn’t alright. My dream was proof of that.

My dream- of her standing outside a castle, freezing to death in the cold, abandoned- told me all I needed to know.

It was all my fault.


	60. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The scenery changed. I traveled for days on end through the cold. Sometimes it would snow and other times, it would be a calm snowy wonderland. My magic was still not strong enough. Often I would have to mumble the magic words to warm the coat again but hours, if not minutes later, it would die and I would have to repeat the words.

It seemed to get weaker and weaker each time I did this. So did I. When my journey began, I went for days without much rest. The cold made it hard to stop anyway. I only rested when the winds died down and I could find a cave or something to hole inside. There were no homes anywhere near me. There was nowhere to turn. I could only tell by the sun which way I was going and it was most certainly north but the longer I walked, the more I realized that I was slowing down. Days dropped to barely hours a day. I ate whatever I could find, berries, nuts, but it wasn’t much and a combination of the cold, lack of sleep and food, caused me to get ill. I could feel the fever. My head swirled. Yet, I pressed on. I didn’t let that stop me.

Until it got too much that is.

I came upon an abandoned farm. Coughing and dizzy, I pushed open the old door, finding that all animals and people were certainly long gone. It wasn’t much but it was more than I had had in some time; I wasn’t too sure how long I had been traveling since I had been mostly fighting the elements and my hunger. Weakly, I gathered some dry, leftover wood in the building and built a fire, hunkering down in the leftover hay that was there. It didn’t take long for my feverish body to find peace for that moment. I slept. Three days in that barn. I could tell from the thin streams of light that came in through the parted woods. After those three days, I dosed the fire, said a soft thank you to the previous owners, and continued on my journey.

It was a mistake. My head still spun. My clothing smelled bad and I was starving. Food was becoming extremely scarce. 

Still I pushed on.

I was walking up an inclined slope crested with trees. My foot, at the top, caught on a tree root and I tumbled down the other side, eventually coming to a stop at the bottom, resting in a small babbling brook.

My vision swam.

All I was able to do was silently apologize to the bear for not being able to rescue him.


	61. Polar Bear

Although I was no longer a bear, my thoughts were still hard to grasp. I tried, very hard, to hold on to everything but as it was, I had already forgotten my name and who I was prior to being a bear. I knew that it had been many generations. I just didn’t know how many exactly. Still, I didn’t want to lose everything so I fought against the magic I knew the queen, my bride, was casting on me.

Marinette.

I knew that name. I knew it but I couldn’t remember why it so important but I held to it like a man at sea holds onto to a board from his capsized ship. 

She was with me at all times though. When we first arrived from the southern lands, she took my hand and guided me to my room where I was fed and given new, grander clothes to wear. She didn’t leave my side. She sat next to me, stroked my hair and whispered of our future. Of the grandness we would be. How wonderful of a King I was to be. The more she talked, the more the name began to waiver. 

Marinette.

Marinette.

Mari--

I smiled at the queen and kissed her hand. “I eagerly await our wedding day,” I whispered. This seemed to please her and she began immediately planning the event. I remained quiet. The strain of talking was still so new to me since it had been so long.

That confused me. Why had it been so long? I couldn’t remember but I had a feeling in my heart that something important had disappeared from my mind.


	62. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The ceiling was straw. I blinked, completely unsure of where I was. It was warm and I was buried under several layers of thick fur blankets which actually made me sweat a bit. I attempted to sit up but was too weak. Someone appeared to my right. I turned my head. The woman who appeared in my vision was older, somewhere in her thirties for sure, and her gold-brown hair was pulled back in a bun, covered by a kerchief. She said something. I narrowed my eyes. She repeated it. I shook my head. It wasn’t a language that I knew.

“I’m sorry but…,” I coughed, swallowing the last words. She turned, called for something, and shortly after, a younger girl, no older than ten appeared, bringing with her a tin cup that she offered to me. The older woman put a hand around my back. She helped me sit up long enough to drink some of the cool water before she allowed me to slide back into the covers. I sighed peacefully.

The little girl asked a question. The older woman smiled, stroked her head, said something, and pushed her away. She left hesitantly.

When she turned back, her face still had the same softness on it. She reached over to the table next to my bed and wetted a rag with cool water, placing it on my forehead. It felt nice. Surprisingly, she began to speak to me in broken French, “You a far way from home little one.” I coughed again.

“You… speak French?” She nodded.

“A little, yes. My name is Eugenia and the little girl that was just here is Elise, my daughter. You have traveled quite some distance from your home country.”

“Where are we?”

“My dear, you are in the land of the Nords!” My eyes went wide. The bear’s castle had rested much more north of my home village and I was sure it had to have been on the border of some countries. However, to find that in my last few weeks of travel I had made it as far north as the land of the Nords, well, it was quite a shock. “Elise found you, lying in a brook not too far from here. We feared the worst but it seems the last two days of sleep have done you good.” My face paled. Two days? I had slept for that long? I grunted, trying to sit up but Eugenia pushed my shoulder down and I crumbled without a fight. “Rest. You are still not strong enough to be traveling. To go now would to be asking for your death.” Her smile brightened. “Besides, Elise would like to speak to you. It seems she has taken a liking to you.” I nodded mutely but covered myself up and went back to sleep as ordered. 

A few days later, I was up and moving. I helped Eugenia where I could with the cooking and cleaning and mending of clothes but I was only able to stay up for a few hours at a time. By the time a week had passed, I was back to my usual self. Still, out of hesitation and worry that I would collapse again, I stayed another week to make sure that I was as healthy as could be before I set out again. 

Eugenia was a kind person. She told us fairy tales around the dinner fire and I shared some as well, ones from my mother’s home country and some from my father’s. They didn’t question why I had been traveling north but, as the days passed, I realized I could trust them and so told them my story. I told them about the bear, his proposal, being carried to a castle farther north than my hometown, the servants, the language learning, performing magie, the sewing and weaving, the music playing, the visitor at night. I even told them of how I had betrayed all of that. At first, I could see the hesitation in Eugenia’s eyes to believe me but Elise never doubted me. She took my hand as soon as I was done sharing and excitedly told me something; unlike her mother who had a decent grasp of French which only improved in my time there, she had none even though she so wanted to learn. Her mother smiled and translated, “She is sure that you will get your polar bear back.” She patted my hand. “And I agree with her. It is a brave and kind thing you go to do. Not many can acknowledge when they have made an error.” I nodded, biting my lips. The tears wanted to fall but I didn’t let them. That would be a horrible way to pay them back for their kindness thus far.

I took to Eugenia’s loom when I felt up to it. I made them both new dresses and winter outfits in record time and they thanked me profusely. Elise especially was excited as it was often that her mother couldn’t sit down and make her a new outfit. Eugenia tried to pay me but I refused. She smiled then and thanked me.

If weaving was too much, I played little games with Elise who was given a stern warning to not wear me out. She only laughed and promised not to. We played some games I hadn’t heard of and some that I did. The hand clapping games especially. It was during one such particular event that I was struck with such a revelation that my whole world practically turned on its side.

Elise called the song “The Troll Queen’s Palace.” 

We clapped and patted our hands as she sang,

Look to the highest parts of the world  
And there you’ll find the Ugly, ugly queen  
With hair like moss and skin of stone  
Who would believe the Troll Queen’s home?  
Head east of the Sun and west of the Moon  
Only if you are a fool!  
The land of ice is certainly not nice  
And waits to bury your bones!

My hands stopped and eyes went wide. Head east of the Sun and west of the Moon. Suddenly, it all made sense and I had to stop a crazed laugh from rising out of my throat. These directions were nonsense! They were nothing. 

If one was being literal, there was only one direction to go. Only one between east and west.

North.

North to the land of Ice. 

Eugenia came from the house and touched my shoulder, “Marinette? Is something the matter?” I blinked. Elise was clinging to her skirt, trying to not cry and it dawned on me that I had stopped playing rather suddenly. I must have given her a bad fright. I turned to sit on my knees and held out my arms. She ran to them. The little girl hugged my neck as I hugged her, kissing her forehead with a mumbled apology. I looked up at Eugenia. She was stunned by the expression I had for a second but then, she smiled and nodded. “It is time isn’t?” I nodded. Elise released me and asked her mother what was happening. Eugenia knelt too and explained it to her in their language; it was time for me to go. Elise sniffed. She tried to hold her tears back but it only served to scrunch up her face and still they ran. I pulled out my handkerchief. 

“Don’t cry Elise,” I soothed, wiping her face. “I promise that I’ll write to you about all the adventures I go on.” Looking up revealed that it was rather late. “Besides, it’s too dangerous for me to go anywhere right now. I’ll head out, first thing in the morning.” The older woman nodded. 

“Come along Elise,” she cooed, taking the girl’s hand. “Let’s enjoy this meal together and tomorrow, we will send her off with a smile!” She nodded, trying to stop the tears, as she held out her other hand to me. I took it and we all went inside.

Dinner was stew that night. 

The next morning, with my sack packed and loaded with goods, I bade farewell to both of them. I kissed Elise’s forehead and gave Eugenia a tight hug. All of our eyes were tear dotted. As a thank you, I pulled from my journal the silver dress I had made, insistently pushing it towards her. “Please,” I begged her, “use it. I have no need for it. Sell it as a thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.”

“You have already helped us so much,” she protested. I shook my head.

“Please, it’ll just weigh me down where I’m going.” Elise tugged at her skirt. 

“Take it Momma,” she pleaded, “I want to wear it when I get married!” The two of us blinked. A softness crossed over Eugenia’s face and she nodded, taking me in a hug once more. I patted Elise’s head. 

“It’ll be a beautiful wedding gown on you,” I cooed. She smiled brightly at me. Standing again, I pulled from my bag two letters and a coin for each. I handed them to her. Eugenia looked at me confused. “Could you send these to France with the next messenger? I have to let my friends know what is going on. They’ll be so worried if I don’t.” I only had time to write two letters: One to Nino and one to Alya who I knew was going to share with my parents as soon as she received it. Eugenia nodded. 

“I will!” She pointed down the road. “Stay on this road for half a day. You should reach Esbjerg by then. You’ll find the passage you seek north from there.” She gripped my hands. “Be safe Marinette.” I smiled.

“I promise I will.” With a final smile and clasp of hands, I took off down the road, making sure to wave to them one last time before I headed to my destination. True to her directions, a half a day later, I arrived at Esbjerg which was a bustling little sea port where tall ships and stood in their harbor and men of all nationalities and sizes hauled freight from their holds. My mouth nearly fell open. Never had I seen such wondrous sights before in my life! A crewman walked by me with a heavy crate, knocking me to the cobblestone and only offering a growled, “Get out of the way!” I stuck my tongue out at him when he wasn’t looking. Standing, I dusted myself off and heard someone laughing behind me; turning revealed a large man with gray-misted hair, a beard to match, a scar over his right eye, and he was wearing a rather ostentatious red jacket accented in gold and silver. He took a swig from his bottle.

“Ye got some fine guts there lass,” he noted to me. “But what would ye have done had that big fellow spotted that little display of yers?” My face paled. Oops. I did kind of forget that these were sailors. I rubbed the back of my neck. 

“I guess I would’ve had to own up to or run,” I meekly noted. “Worst comes to worst, I kick him where it hurts to make sure he doesn’t come after me.” He blinked. Then he started laughing again, a hearty laugh that had him practically rolling off of the crates he sat on. When he regained himself, he smirked at me.

“I like ye lass. Ye have a lot of spunk yer system.” He held out a hand. “Captain Jacobs at your service.” I shook it. His hand was larger and rougher than I expected. He took another drink from his bottle. “Now, what’s a lass like ye runnin’ round these parts for?”

“I’m looking for passage north.” He scratched his head. 

“North ye say? This be a treacherous time for northern sailing with the ice caps movin’ in and all.” He huffed. “But that won’t be a problem for The Black Cat. She’d sure as anythin’ get ye through the ice with that destructive hull of hers.” 

“Excellent! That’s exactly what I need. Where can I find the captain?” He laughed his hearty laugh again. This time when he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before pointing to himself. 

“I be the captain of The Cat.” I blinked as he stood. He started down the pier and I followed, trying to keep up with his ridiculously long legs. “So it’s north ye need to go. I’ve sailed the entire ocean and can tell ye lass that the waters this time of year are going to be dangerous. Yer northernmost ports from here include Seydisfjordur across the ocean and Bergen north-east of here.” He spun on me then and I nearly collided with his chest. He leaned in close. “So which will it be? Both’ll cost ye a fair amount though.” I huffed and pulled from my bag the journal with the gold dress in it, presenting it to him. He blinked. Growling, “Lass, what in the world do ye think I have need of a dress for?”

“It’s not an ordinary dress,” I countered. “This will fetch no less than a thousand of any money you ask for.” He looked it over. While he did, I cleared my throat, “And when I say north I mean the northernmost region of the world.” He blinked again. He pressed the dress back into my hand.

“Ye asking for death lass,” he hissed. Captain Jacobs started to walk away. I couldn’t help it.

“Some captain,” I growled. He turned on me, staggering up to place a knife from his hip at my throat. I didn’t flinch. I stared him down. “Some captain,” I repeated, “too afraid to take a challenge and here I thought your ship could handle the ice of the north?” He started to press the knife to my skin. After a few tense seconds, he stopped, dropping it. 

“Alright lass. Ye have yer passage north.” He held out his hand and I pressed the dress into it. 

“We sail at dawn,” he warned. “Meet us at the end of the pier by sunrise or we leave without ya.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” I saluted. He rolled his eyes and waved. I was so giddy. 

Finally! Things were apparently turning around for the better!


	63. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The Black Cat was a disappointment. It was manned by a crew of nine, including the captain, and it was definitely a lot smaller than I imagined but Captain Jacobs clapped my shoulder and told me to not judge her based on her size; she was powerful and mighty and fierce enough to shatter the ice that may lay north in our journey. Just like her men.

Speaking of, let me make note of the men of the crew.

All were rough in nature and from various nationalities, a true hodge-podge of misfits thrown together by a crazier captain who made up their world.

First there was his right hand man Leonardo or Leo as everyone referred to him as. He was an Italian with a thick accent, evenly tanned skin, and stood a good two or three head spans above me. His hair was slicked back in a low ponytail. He did not look, in features, the part of a sailor but when he spoke for the captain, the men listened with care. He was a kind person. He even sat and taught me some of the ropes. Leo, one night over our meager dinner, even shared how he had met Captain Jacobs but, as I was told this in confidence as a member of the crew, I shall leave it out of these pages and take it with me to my grave.

Then there were Dai and Fai, twins from my mother’s home country. It surprised them both to find one like myself on this side of the world but they spoke to me in her tongue which I struggled with. They agreed it was shameful that I had not mastered it and so endeavored amongst themselves to ensure I would be fluent before this trip was done.

The fourth member of this crew was a man named Johnson and the fifth was his younger brother Theodore who came with the sixth member, his son Thomas. Both men had lost their wives to illness and so had decided to travel. Thomas was meant to have stayed with his grandparents but had smuggled himself on board the ship back when the two men had joined the crew and thus, he had become a part of the family. He helped with more of the basic chores like swabbing the deck or peeling the potatoes (two chores he was glad to finally have company in doing in the way of my presence). 

The seventh member was a thin and shorter-than-I man named Jacques who had come from a southern city in France. It pleased him to hear his native language again. He whispered to me one evening, “I’m glad to have another Frenchman on this boat. These people have no taste!” I had to hide a giggle behind my hand.

Krishna was the eighth member of the crew. One night as we sat to a meal, he mentioned to me that I reminded him of someone and I smiled, mentioning that my father had traveled to India several years before my birth. He asked his name. I told him. Surprisingly, he knew my father and how he had stayed at his grandmother’s home during his time there. He told me what he could remember and I asked about his family. Sadly, his grandmother had passed not long after his departure but she was at peace for certain. I made a note in my journal for that. I then shared the story of my parents, how they had met and run-away together and settled in France to have me. He smiled at that. Patting my head, he noted, “It is good to see that he has passed his goodness on.”

Then there was Captain Jacobs. He was a notorious drunk, never too far off his bottle, and he would curse and swear at the men all day for arrogant things like not cleaning the deck right or for letting the mainsail stay down too long in down winds. Yet, he wasn’t cruel to any of them. I suspected that the men had a deeper level of respect for him than I could fathom. I didn’t get to see it myself until I had a saber tossed at me one day. I was peeling potatoes for dinner when I heard the door behind me swing open with a thud and a shadow crossed in front of the light. I blinked. Suddenly, a saber flew from the hand of the person there and I barely caught it before it was growled to me, “Outside lass. Yer gonna practice.”

“Practice? Practice what?” 

“Fightin’ of course.” I blinked but followed him. We stood on the top deck and I held the sword. 

“Fighting? Why do I need to know how to fight?” The captain’s eyes blazed as he turned on me. 

“Do ye know how to survive if a pirate be upon ye?” That froze me in my steps. Pirates. Notorious ship attackers that usually left their prey for dead no matter where they went. He chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.” He motioned his head to the saber. “Grasp that handle there lass. Keep the sharp edge face down or ye could run the risk of hurtin’ ye self. Give it a swing down.” I did. And nearly lost my balance. “Spread yer feet. Lower yourself. Good. Swing again.” I did. I was more stable. After a few moments, the captain went to sit on some crates again. I eyed him. He drunk from his bottle. “Don’t stop. When I tell ya, switch to the other hand, do so quickly.” I groaned but kept going.

He finally let me switch about thirty minutes later. 

I became more proficient in the weeks that followed, even to the point that I could have friendly competitions with some of the men of the crew. Thomas was the easiest to beat (much to his displeasure). 

To get even with me, he started calling me La Coccinelle, the ladybug. I blinked. The men got a good laugh out of it and said it suit me considering I was always wearing my red with black dots traveling cloak. I blushed and motioned the comments away with my hand. The nickname stuck though. I was now Ladybug.

I learned to live and trust these men. When their stories ran out, I took them up with my own. I shared the story of a girl who was taken by a polar bear to be his bride but she had rules to follow. She could not leave the castle. She could not see her family or friends. She could not speak to the servants (even though she found a way to do it without being caught). But, most importantly, she was not allowed to look upon the face of the man who slept next to her every night. The men were enchanted by the story. In fact, I had just gotten to the part where the girl betrayed the bear’s trust by looking upon his face when Krishna called from the crow’s nest, “Captain! A storm’s coming off the starboard!” We all turned and ran for the railing. Sure enough, the clouds were dark and swirling and lightning striking at the surface. Leo stood next to the captain.

“We need to move around it,” he suggested.

Captain Jacobs stroked his beard. After a few moments, he ordered, “Stay on course.” The men balked. 

“But captain,” Johnson argued. He spun on him.

“That’s an order! Pull all the sails. Brace everything!” He motioned to me and Thomas. “Ye two below deck. Yer going to get a firsthand experience with how tough The Black Cat is.”

“I’m staying,” Thomas shouted. “I’m just as much as this crew as Pa is!” He placed his hand on his shoulder. 

“Aye but ye do me no good overboard.” He pushed him back into my arms. “Get ye below deck. That’s an order!” He turned then, heading to the ship’s wheel, ready to steady us in the storm. Thomas broke from my grasp as the first drops of rain and rough water started hitting the ship. 

“Thomas,” I screamed over the deluge. He didn’t hear me or he simply ignored me. My face paled as I watched the men struggle to get the sails secured. There wasn’t much time! I gritted my teeth. I was no good above deck as I was, I knew this, so I turned and ran for the hold; I had to get my bag! Tikki had taught me a spell for locking things in place but only if I used the crystal she had given me. If I could get to that then maybe I could….

I threw the hatch to the hold open. Inside was dark and stuffy as all the walls were stacked high with crates and barrels. I used my hands to find my way. All of our belongings had been stored at the back since the living quarters didn’t have enough space. It took an eternity without light to find them. Once I did, I found my bag and crystal and let out a triumphant shout.

The ship jolted. 

I wasn’t prepared.

I was thrown against the barrels, my head smacking hard into the rough edge of one.

My vision went black.

*****

I awoke sometime later in the dark hold but could see thanks to some light that streamed in from the surface. Looking up, I realized that the ship was no longer violently rocking. My heart swelled. We did it! We survived the storm. I groaned as I stood, hurrying for the deck.

My heart fell. 

The deck was in complete shatters. 

No one was there. 

I was alone again.


	64. Chloé Bourgeois

I wanted only what was best for my Thomas. I know that he was confused, startled even by the strangeness of our land, but he would grow accustomed to it with time; until then, I would accommodate him as best as I could. Starting with his room. I had the best architects in the kingdom construct it to perfection. It looked exactly like the one he had stayed in when he was much younger only it was more mature, built for a man. I playfully covered his eyes, guiding him into the room.   
“Three,” I whispered into his ear, “Two, one!” I released him. He blinked, trying to see again. His eyes, his brilliant green eyes, scanned the room. There was something that flashed through them, sadness, recognition, and I worried for a moment if the magie was not working as it should. It disappeared though. He turned to me, a soft smile on his face as he kissed my hand. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. “It is lovely.” 

Happiness rose high in my chest. I wrapped an arm through his, laying my head on his shoulder. My own magie faltered, nearly revealing my true form to him but I quickly hid the affected appendage, my free hand, behind my back.

I was going to do everything I could to keep him happy.

He would never have a reason to leave me ever again.


	65. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

“Hello,” I called into the air. The sound of the waves slapping against the free floating ship was my only reply; no one returned my call nor did I hear the sounds of anyone in distress. Panic swept through me. Where they all thrown overboard in the gale? I steeled myself and moved forward. I picked my way around the damage, looking under everything and in every nook and cranny of the place. I was lucky. Thomas was curled up behind some crates that seemed to have knocked into him similarly to how I had been. I pulled him out and bandaged the wound on his forehead and a little ways from him was Krishna and Leo, both breathing but unconscious. Krishna had a broken hand. I bit my lip and muttered my apologizes as set it, the man hissing in pain in his sleep, but he quieted once it was done. A door opened on one end of the ship. Dai and Fai emerged from below, carrying what looked like medicine and other goods for such events. Their faces lit up when they saw me.

“Marinette,” Fai called.

“We thought you were swept over,” Dai noted as they ran up to me. I smiled and hugged them both, shaking my head.

“I went below to get something to help last night,” I breathed. “A wave must’ve hit the boat. I crashed into the barrels. Blacked out. I woke up and thought everyone was gone.” 

“You missed a lot,” Fai answered. “We nearly lost the mainsail and mast.”

“The mast held but the sail didn’t,” Dai noted.

“Couple of waves knocked us pretty good.”

“But the Captain was able to get us through alright.”

“We weren’t injured….”

“But really tired….”

“So we woke first this morning….”

“And decided to get some medicine and bandages ready in case the others needed help.” I nodded. 

“I’ll help. Maman taught me some of the more basic herbs.” I pointed over my shoulder. “I’ve found Krishna, Leo, and Thomas already. Krishna’s hand is broken and Thomas has a cut to the forehead. I didn’t see anything with Leo.”

“We will go make sure they are alright,” Fai noted, patting my shoulder.

“Will you look the boat over for the captain and others while we attend to them?”

“Of course.” The twins nodded but before they stepped away, Dai put a hand on my shoulder. 

“Be careful Marinette. We will tend to your cut too after we have seen to everyone else.” I blinked. Reaching up, I found that there was dried blood on my forehead and a sharp stinging sensation; I guess I did hit pretty hard after all. We parted ways from there. I scoured the rest of the boat for the other men. 

Theodore, Jacques, and Johnson were nowhere to be found.

Captain Jacobs, on the other hand, I found buried beneath a pile of barrels. I screamed for Dai and Fai and the two came in an instant, helping me push the heavy things off of him. Once he was clear, it was easy to see that he had taken a lot of damage; both his right arm and leg were broken and possibly his left ankle as well. He had another scar on his face. Leaning down, Fai felt for breath. He nodded to the two of us. “He breathes but just barely.”

“Let’s not waste time then,” I returned, rolling up my sleeves. “We need to set his injuries and he’s got quite a few.” The two nodded. Fai produced a leather strap that he stuck in his mouth to keep the old man from biting his tongue off and then they braced his shoulders while I rest the bones. The captain screamed and tried to thrash against the pain. They held him steady though and after an hour of work, we had him stabilized too. We fell back on our haunches, panting. “Good job. He should only need rest and care from now on.”

“Yes but what of the final three?” My face paled. I shook my head and their faces fell. 

No words were needed.

They knew.

I stood. “Let’s get the boys into the sleeping quarters. It looks like the three of us are going to have to man the ship.” The twins shared a look.

“Dai and I can do that Marinette.”

“Who will look after the men?” I narrowed my eyes.

“I only know the basics,” I hissed, “for their health. You two know more than I do. My hands would be better put to use trying to fix that mainsail and getting this boat back in motion.” I waved to the outside. “Besides, I doubt any of them would be too happy to be attended to by a girl like myself. Best I stay away for now.” I sighed. “I can’t just sit there and pretend to be a nurse. Please, let me help with the boat.” They shared a look again but decided to not fight me. Together, the three of us moved the sleeping men to their quarters. Dai agreed to keep an eye on them once they woke as he was even better with medicine than Fai was but, until then, the three of us worked on cleaning up the deck and assessing the damage. The main staff was fine. The mainsail though was completely ripped to shreds. We agreed that it would be a pain but we were going to have to pull it and begin sewing. It was the first task I took up, besides helping with dinner. 

A day later, Krishna and Thomas woke up. It was horrible. Krishna was adamant that he was going to help but he gave up when he realized that he was useless with only one hand. Thomas was depressed. Both his father and uncle were missing and nothing any of us said was of any help; we let him work though because we knew that it helped us to try and forget the events of that night and to keep the tiny flicker of hope in our hearts alive.

Two days later, the captain woke. He didn’t speak. He didn’t eat or drink. He just laid in his bed, staring up at his ceiling.

After the third day of this, I slammed his food tray down on his end table. He didn’t respond. “That’s it,” I snapped. “You really are a coward.” That got him. He turned his head. I put my hands on my hips, glaring down at him. “You are going to let what these men did for you go to waste all because you don’t want to own up to the fact that it happened. Yeah, it happened. Yeah, your men were hurt and… and missing but if you continue to sit here and die like this, it’ll mean that everything they did to keep you alive was worthless. Only a coward would disrespect brave men like that.” I left after that.

Fai reported to me that the captain ate that day. He also requested to be moved to the main deck so he could teach me how to steer the ship. I blinked.

Me?

Steer?

The ship?

He smiled and nodded, patting my shoulder. “I don’t know what you said, but the captain trusts you.” I thanked him.

We had been a drift for a week by then. Only Leo remained a sleep which caused concerned for the twins who feared that he might have received a rather powerful blow to the head. The captain grunted at the news. He said nothing otherwise. That day, Krishna, Thomas, Dai, and Fai helped to raise the mainsail, now stitched together as best as we could with the materials we had. It wasn’t pretty but it worked. Captain Jacobs sat behind me at the wheel and taught me how to steer the ship; at night, he taught me to read the stars to ensure that we were still traveling north. Occasionally, one of the twins would trade with me so I could rest and eat but I would be right back as soon as I was able. I was determined to see this journey all the way through.

Several days later, the captain asked me, “Lass, what is yer after?” 

I smiled softly, not taking my eyes away from the bow of the ship where I directed it. “Do you… Do you remember the stories I told? The ones of the bear and the girl?” I could see him nod without turning my head. I swallowed. “They’re much more than stories. They’re real. I am the girl. I messed up. I hurt him so bad and now… well, now I’m trying to make up for my mistakes.” I took a shaky breath, “Even if he won’t forgive me for it.” He didn’t respond for a while. When he did, I nearly burst into tears right then and there.

“Well lass, after everything ye’ve done for my crew, I guess I owe ye. I’ll take ye to the ends of the earth so ye can make up with this bear of yers.”

I nodded thankfully and turned back to my job.

We were going to the ends of the earth.

One way or another.


	66. Nino Lahiffe

I received word from Marinette the month I returned from traveling with the troupe. Maman greeted me from the kitchen where she was working on a fresh loaf of bread, and she dusted her hands off to come and give me a hug. Then she reached into her pocket and handed it to me. I stared at it.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from Marinette,” she explained, “It came about a day ago. It must have come from far away; the man who delivered it said he had been given it by a Nordic woman further north.” I nodded and gave her a peck on the cheek. Before I headed upstairs to unpack, I decided to open it. My heart nearly stopped as my eyes scanned it over and I’m sure I looked horrible because she touched my shoulder. “Nino? Is everything alright?” I shook my head.

Nino,

I’m writing in a hurry but I had to let you know what was going on. I’m no longer at the bear’s castle. I messed up. Big time. I did the one thing that was told of me to not do and I caused a lot of pain. 

I’m going to make things right. I was told to head north, to the land of the trolls. I don’t know how far I’ll have to go but I’m going. I messed up so I’m going to fix it.

I don’t want you or Alya or my parents to worry. I promise to be careful. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but… until I come back, be safe and wait for me.

Love,

Marinette

“I have to go,” I explained, my tongue heavy in my mouth. Without a further word, I turned on my heels, reaching for the coat that I had only put on the table just before. She reached for me. I didn’t stop nor did I explain. 

As I ran out the door, I only shouted, “I’ll write when I can! I’ll be home soon!”

I’m sure she gave an exasperated sigh. She didn’t stop me though.

I rode all day and night. If I knew Marinette, then I knew for a fact she had probably written to either Alya or her parents to share the same information. Usually the ride to and from the village took three days. I cut it down to a day and a half. When I arrived, I didn’t bother to tie the horse to anything. I ran straight to the bakery. Flinging the door open caused the little bell hanging over it to chime and three sets of eyes turned on me, all wide with shock as I panted from my speedy traveling; Alya’s though, were the only ones to tear up as she ran to me, catching me in a tight hug. I held her. She sobbed into my shoulder. I looked up at the Dupain-Chengs who had worry etched over their faces. Clearly, they were just reading the letter. I rubbed Alya’s shoulder.

“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed. All three of us looked at her but we said nothing. Her sobs filled the quiet. 

Tom put the letter down. “Don’t blame yourself Alya,” he soothed. “It’s Marinette we are talking about. She was always going to go one way or another.” He put his arm around Sabine to soothe her. “We have to trust her now.”

She sniffed again. Her tears were still falling strongly even though her cries had lessened. She clung tightly to my shirt and wouldn’t let go and I kissed her head, assuring her that everything was going to be alright even though I wasn’t too certain myself at that time.

All we could do was pray.


	67. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

For someone who was usually so good at keeping track of the days, I eventually lost count. Between helping steer the ship, watching for yet another storm, and helping tend to the captain and men when it was needed, I didn’t have too much time to really consider how many days had passed since we had been a drift. Thankfully with the mainsail intact again, we were able to catch a strong wind and move closer to our destination and by the end of what was probably our third week at sea, Thomas gave an excited shout from the crow’s nest which made us all turn our heads to face him; he waved in a certain direction. 

“Birds,” he cheered, “I see birds!” Sure enough, a whole slew of birds appeared on the horizon, and their cries filled the normal silence of the sea. Krishna and the twins smiled happily. Captain Jacobs gave an excited yell behind me. 

“That direction girl! We’re almost there! Keep that wheel steady!” 

“Aye, Aye captain,” I cheered, turning to keep the ship heading in the right direction. It took only an hour or so for the land to appear. It loomed in front of us, gigantic and pure white, and I’m sure all of our mouths dropped, save for the captain who probably had seen something like this before. He tisked at me.

“Steer us to starboard Coccinelle. We’re going to have to find a place to run The Cat aground.” I nodded and gave the wheel a sharp tug which instantly had us moving off in the new direction. A few minutes later, Thomas called down to me, “Straight ahead Marinette! We can land there!” I nodded. We all braced for the sudden stop that was about to occur; Dai ran to the sleeping quarters to hold Leo who still had not woken from the storm some weeks ago. The bow of The Black Cat smacked hard into the ice. Everyone jerked, nearly falling and the sound of breaking ice and groaning wood rang in the air for some minutes until both came to a full stop, silencing. We stood hesitantly. It was only once we were sure that there was no danger in any of us being tossed overboard or the ship and ice to move suddenly, did we let up a cheer.

A cheer that stopped a few seconds later when Thomas called, “There’s someone on the ice!” Krishna, Fai, and I ran to the bow, looking over to see what he meant. Sure enough, there was a person, dressed in what looked like tanned-hide clothing, accented in fur for warmth, standing on the ice below; never before had I seen a person like them. Their skin was a warm color, eyes narrowed, and hair, what little could be seen under their hood, black. Behind them was a sleigh. It was small and had a rope attached to the front for easy dragging. The person waved. Thomas, who had now climbed down from the nest, appeared next to me. He turned to Krishna, “Do you think they’re friendly?” He nodded. 

“I see no weapons on them. It might do us well to speak with them about our injured and finding shelter.” He ran a hand over his head. “At the very least, we’ll need a chance to really assess any damage to the ship that we couldn’t do at sea.” He nodded to the wheel deck. “Marinette, inform the captain that we’re going ashore to speak to the person.” I saluted and did as asked. The captain thought on the words for a moment but eventually gave his approval. Krishna and Fai went. Thomas and I could see them speaking to the person who occasionally nodded and pointed off further on the ice. It seemed the conversation was good. A few minutes later, both men returned with the visitor in tow. Once on board, Krishna told us, “Marinette, Thomas, this is Sedna. She’s a resident of the village just over that hill. She saw our ship out at sea and figured something was wrong. She’s offered to take us back to her village to help those that are injured heal.” My shoulders slumped. Finally, some good news! Upon looking closer at the new person, I could see a bit of roundness in her face and she only lit up upon seeing us; raising a hand, she spoke to me and Thomas for the first time.

“Greetings. I am Sedna. I will help carry your injured to the village. We must move quickly; another storm is set to move through here by the evening.” 

I turned to Krishna, “What should I do?” 

“Gather your belongings,” he smiled. Patting my head, he whispered, “You haven’t forgotten why we came here have you?” I shook my head. Of course I didn’t. I was here to rescue my polar bear, a story I had confessed to them all a few days after I had with the captain. 

“If it is the land of Trolls you seek,” Sedna cut in, “you will most certainly need my help.” We all baulked at her. I stepped closer.

“How did you know…?”

“A Wiseman in my village told us,” she explained, “and he is most eager to meet you.” She looked to the sky before continuing, “Please. We must get your injured off the boat. Let us proceed quickly.”

“You heard her crew. Let’s get moving,” Krishna ordered. “Thomas, Fai, go grab Leo. Dai and I will handle the Captain. Coccinelle, go get your belongings.” 

“Aye, aye!”

We all divided then and by the time early afternoon had rolled around, we were on the short trek from The Black Cat to village on the other side of the hill. “Village” was a bit of a loose term. The place we came upon was built with several structures that looked like at any moment, they would be blown over by a strong wind. There was no way, in my mind, that they should have been able to survive in this weather for long in those things! Clearly they knew what they were doing. Sedna lead us down the embankment. The people stopped and stared at us only briefly, mumbling to each other, before returning to their tasks which varied from caring for the children that played in the “street” to the animals, to weaving and sewing, and what looked like food prepping. My stomach rumbled at the sight. It had been a couple of days since I had last eaten as our food supplies had dwindled faster due to some of it being washed over in the storm. She led the way to a particular tent and opened the flap, pulling the sled inside. We followed suit. 

In the middle of this tent was a fire, roaring and warming, while a pot boiled on top of it. All around it were fur rugs which helped to keep us off the cold ground. Other trinkets, herbs and dried meat, additional fur clothing, wooden frames with a woven bases on them, hung or sat in the nearby area; Sedna motioned to all of it. “Please, relax. You must all be tired after your ordeal. I will call for the doctor to come and check your friends.” She paused. “I should warn you,” she started slowly, “this land is unforgiving. Your goal is the land of Trolls which lies north of the white lands; to go there will most certainly be death.” Her eyes were hard as she turned to me. “You need to consider that before you decide on going any further.” She motioned to some bowls. “Help yourselves. I am going to find the doctor.”

With that, she left. We all were let to look at each other and mull over her words but we did help ourselves to the stew at the same time. It was warm and tasted very much of the earth. Thomas took my bowl when I was done. “You better get some rest Marinette,” he encouraged. Weariness moved through my system. I was shocked at how tired I truly was and nodded, laying down on some of the furs nearby.

I didn’t move, apparently, for two days.

When I did, it was with Sedna standing over me. She smiled, removing her bare hand from my forehead, “We feared you had taken ill.”

“I’m sorry,” I responded, stretching. “I guess I hadn’t been sleeping well on the ship.” She nodded.

“There is no need to explain. Now that you are awake, there is a man here who would like to speak to you.” I blinked. 

“A man?” She nodded, motioning to me.

“A foreigner to us. He arrived many years ago and has been here since. His knowledge in medicine and other arts has been most helpful to us.” She smiled. “He was the one who predicted your coming; he has information that you will find most helpful in your travels.” I swallowed hard and nodded, following her out of the hut. She had given me some of the furs to wear as she did and I was thankful for it as I was much warmer than I had been in my traveling cloak alone. I looked around. 

“Sedna? Where did the crew go?”

“Back to your boat. They went to gather some belonging and assess the damage to your ship.” I nodded again. We fell silent for a minute until she stopped at a certain tent, called to the occupant inside, and held the flap open for me. I slowly entered.

Inside was just as it was in Sedna’s tent. There were furs everywhere and a fire roaring in the middle, the smoke rising out of the top in thick tendrils. Unlike her tent though, this one had an old man with gray hair and narrow eyes; it didn’t take me much to guess where he had come from since I had stared into similarly narrow eyes my whole life. He wore animal hide like the rest of the village but he sat, cross legged, in a pose I had learned from my mother as “meditation.” He opened his eyes to me and smiled. 

“Marinette,” he greeted softly, “it is good to meet you in person.” I sat across from him, the fire between us.

“You speak French,” I noted. He nodded and motioned to the tent walls. 

“Yes and Inuit as well as Manchu.”

“You are… from China correct?”

“The same as your mother, yes.” My brow furrowed.

“Then how did you…?” He chuckled. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, clearly reminiscing about the situation that had brought him to that moment.

“My name is Fu. I was once a great explorer, scientist, and keeper,” he explained, “of Ancient and Magical arts of old China. My sense for adventure knew no bounds. While reading through some of my text, I stumbled upon information that would lead me to the Troll Queen’s kingdom and foolishly I went in search of it. I came for the truth or what I had perceived as the truth. Instead, I learned of reality’s harshness.” He motioned to the door again. “Sedna’s mother saved me at that time. I was half dead on the ice as it was when she stumbled across me. She managed to build a structure to protect us both and provided me with already rare food. I was so moved by this moment that I asked to stay, learning more from these people and giving back where I could, all the while keeping the secrets I had learned on the ice for a day such as this one.” Instinctively, I bit my lip. 

My voice was dry as it asked, “Can you teach me those secrets?” His eyes flashed. It took a few moments to wrestle with his conscious before he finally nodded his head and stood, moving over to a pack that was sitting on one of the walls. After a few moments, he returned, sitting much closer to me. 

“What I am going to teach you,” he warned, “can only be used once. You have been instructed in the use of magie?” I nodded.

“A little. Tikki taught me some when I was living at the bear’s castle.” I thought a spark of recognition crossed over his face at the mention of her name but it quickly vanished.

“It will suffice,” he assured me. He cleared his throat. “Repeat after me: Oh Wind of the North, your services are required.” I repeated it as ordered. He wasn’t satisfied with the one time so he had me repeat it several more times in order to ensure I did not forget it. When he was finally pleased, he nodded. “That spell will help you call upon the North winds of this land. You can only use it once so be wise with it.” He then opened his hand and presented to me a red and black dotted yo-yo which I took and examined, twisting it in all directions as he explained, “This is a magic yo-yo from China. Take it with you. I know it will be of use to you in the Queen’s land.” I nodded, placing it in the small bag on my side. The tent flap opened. Sedna entered, explaining that the men were back. I stood, thanking him for his help before walking outside to the worried expressions of the crew. They’d checked the ship; there was a section of wood missing from the side which was high enough to not sink it in shallow water but would be dangerous if they came upon another storm. They were stranded then until another ship arrived. Sedna offered hope in the way of a possible ship; sometimes, French ships arrived with explorers wanting to test their skills and knowledge on the ice or some of the ones that had been there previously would return. It was about time for a new ship to arrive. The men nodded and agreed to stay in the village to wait for help. They also didn’t want to leave Leo or the Captain behind. My hands tightened in my gloves. 

This was our good-bye. 

Sedna, over stew that night, told me that she would take me across the ice. I nodded and thanked her. She helped me pack. When morning came, we loaded up the sleigh, attached it to one of the reindeer. I stood in front of the men. I made sure to give them all a tight hug and words of encouragement with promises to be careful. Captain Jacobs blushed scarlet as I gave him a gentle peck on the temple. He tried to wave me off with his good hand. “Get ye gone lass. Go save yer polar bear.”

“Of course I will,” I replied softly. “It’s what I came to do after all.” 

The men watched as we disappeared out of the village and onto the freshly fallen snow.

The journey across the ice would take two weeks at the least, Sedna explained to me. That didn’t bother me. I had already travelled for what seemed like an eternity; a couple more weeks wouldn’t kill me. I hoped. The time we spent on the ice wasn’t lost to me. She taught me so much. How to hunt for food where food did not appear, how to build a shelter, how to follow the sun and stars at night, how to tell where there was weak ice. At one point, she even showed me how to handle a polar bear, a true one, when it came to steal the seal we had snagged for dinner. It loomed over us, threatening violence but she only spoke softly to it, agreeing to leave it our catch. The bear huffed and retreated with its meal - our meal - in tow. She only smiled at my frustration and motioned to the bear, showing me that she had two cubs in tow to consider as well; I begrudgingly let it go.

The most important thing I learned on this journey was how to watch the weather.

Sedna stopped us several days after the bear incident. Her eyes were sharp as she looked over the horizon. I looked up from the sleigh, “What’s wrong?”

“A storm is coming,” she noted, pointing in a certain direction. “The air has changed. We must prepare now. Should we be caught in it without protection, we might not live to see tomorrow.” My face paled. She taught me, then, how to construct what they called an igloo. Once I got the hang of it, we made short work of it and getting our things inside with a fire lit for warmth. Which was good.

The world went white.


	68. Chloé Bourgeois

The days were passing by too slowly yet again. Thomas was with me, that much was true, and every day the wedding preparations occurred but there just seemed to be so much to do! I spent a majority of my time in the ballroom, discussing with many of the servants what it is exactly that I wanted for our wedding. He spent a majority of his time in his room. I tried to ease his transition by allowing him the space he needed to right himself. 

There is yet, one thing that troubles me. When I picked him up from the South lands, he was wearing a gaudy white fur shirt stained with wax on the front. I attempted to take it from him and throw it away as it was a reminder of a life that was past him but he refused to let me, stubbornly insisting that he keep the shirt as a reminder of his human home. 

Begrudgingly, I allowed him to keep it.

However, the stain on the front was bothersome. No amount of clean seemed to be able to get it to budge. Even my best magie only seemed to make it worse. Thomas did not seem to mind. He kept it folded in the back of his wardrobe anyway.

The thing was useless. It served no other purpose than to be a float for him in this strange land; it wouldn’t be too long before I would be able to get rid of it anyway.

It wasn’t like he would remember it for too much longer.


	69. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Once more, my journey was brought to a halt by the weather. We were confined in the igloo for days but we attempted to make the most of it. Sedna sang for me the songs of her people and shared for me their ancient stories. I did the same. My story, though, was the one I told over and over and over again: the story of how I met the bear. She started to ask me questions about him and it was with a pang that I realized that I knew nothing of him; I didn’t even have an actual name to give her. She patted my hand at one point and said that I would know more, one day. I smiled and thanked her. 

When the weather finally let up, we had to dig ourselves out of the entrance way. It seemed that a new life had been breathed into the land; true, it was still cold, but it was fresh and undisturbed. She petted the reindeer, checking for injuries while I pulled our gear from the temporary home. We set off once more.

After another week on the ice, we finally arrived at our destination. Sedna stopped the sleigh just short of two giant, ornate, crystal-ice gates. I stood from the sleigh. She motioned to them. “Through there is the land of Trolls. No human has gone through those gates and came back out alive.” She smiled at me. “I know you will be the first.”

“Thank-you,” I breathed. She nodded. 

“This is where we must part. I must hurry back across the ice before I am trapped.” She held out a hand and I took it, shaking hard. “May the spirits guide you. Be safe Marinette.”

“I will. You be just as safe.” Sedna nodded and without another word, mushed the deer into leading her back across the ice. I watched until she disappeared over the horizon. Once she was gone, I turned to the gates. They were massive, standing a good five or six heads higher than I was and they were cold, cold enough that I could feel them through my gloves. They were light though and I was able to push one in to allow me access to the bridge on the other side which was also made of ice. One step told me that walking over it was not going to be easy. There was a deep chasm on either side of it and no railings. One false step and it was sure to be my end. I hesitated. Then, an idea slowly formed. I pulled the yo-yo out from my bag and eyed one of the pillars that decorated the side of the bridge; there was no realistic way that a normal yo-yo would have been able to reach it, let alone pull me up, but Fu had said it wasn’t a normal yo-yo. It was magic. 

I tied the end around my wrist in case I did slip off. Gritting my teeth, I flung it. The string seemed to go on for miles without breaking or losing its integrity and it caught around the pillar, just as I had wanted it to. I gave a tug and it tightened. Steadying myself at the base, I pulled harder, allowing myself to be pulled by the string to the pillar. I hit my target. It took everything in me to not cheer.

Once I got hold of the rhythm, it didn’t take me long to get moving across the bridge. All day I traveled. It seemed like the bridge went on forever. By the time I had reached the end, I was starving and exhausted but still determined to move on. There were some caves not too far from where I was that I could see and I went to them quickly, making sure that the coast was clear and that I hadn’t accidently stumbled upon a Troll’s nest before I could even make it to my destination. There was an alcove off of the tunnel I took. I decided to store my bag and goods there until I needed them again. The yo-yo went under my dress though. Just in case. I continued walking in the gloom for a little long but eventually that grew to be too much so I sat against one of the walls. 

I don’t remember anything after that.


	70. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I woke in a cold, strange place. All around me were humans, dressed in brown furs that were no better than rags and there was no light to be found; we were all just pushed up against each other in a stone cave with a only a steel gate blocking the entrance. We huddled together even just for warmth. I don’t know how long we were left down there. Time felt so different in that place but eventually, we were released by a large headed, green skinned creature with long fangs protruding from its mouth. If I wasn’t frozen, I would have most certainly laughed at the ridiculousness of the thing. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not especially as we watched him pick and human up by the face and slam them against the stone wall when they accidentally tripped and fell into their back. We were completely terrified. None of us lifted our heads as we were lead from one cell into another. The new area was a dungeon like portion of what I assumed to be the castle and then, one by one, we were deposited into tiny, cold, stone-grey rooms. I was shoved in about the eighteenth room. There was nothing in the room except for a stone ledge, some straw, and a small window which didn’t give me much view of the area. A few seconds later, the whole hallway was plunged into darkness.

And thus my life as a servant of the trolls began.

At first we were only allowed to work the stables with the reindeer and other animals. It wasn’t easy. One wrong move was enough to earn a series of, if you were lucky, punches and kicks. Whips were a favorite of the Trolls. So were their clubs. 

As the weeks passed, some of the servants began to disappear from the stables, sent to work in other tasks. Eventually I too was moved. I began working for some of the higher classed Troll women, serving hand and foot to their every need until I was released late at night to return to my cell and sleep on my stone bed. We took our meals there too. I didn’t eat the colorless porridge that was shoved through the door; it hadn’t taken me long to figure out that there was something wrong with the food. The other servants who ate it appeared to be slow-brained and lifeless. Brainwashed. There had to be something there and so, nightly, I watched to make sure that no one was around outside my window before I dumped it out. I pretended. Pretending gave me a lot of leverage. This made me glad to work with the women. I took whatever they didn’t eat from their plates and hid them in a little pack under my dress that I had fashioned out of some scrap material I had been able to pilfer. That bag sat right beside my yo-yo. Just in case.

The troll women had very loose lips near me because they believed me to be like the others. Thanks to Tikki, I was able to understand a lot of what they said even though I couldn’t quite catch everything; I realized from this that my polar bear, apparently going by the name Thomas, was marrying the troll queen.

My heart stopped.

By all that was good….

That woman, the blonde one, in the sleigh, was the Troll Queen.

She had come to get him personally.

As I went back to my chamber that night, I had an odd sensation in my heart and for once, I questioned whether I should have come here or not. Was it the right thing to do? Did he… Did Thomas even want leave? Maybe he had wanted to come here. Maybe he was happy here and it would be best if I left him….

I stopped. Shaking my head, I almost dumped the gruel from the Trolls on my head. No way. I knew he didn’t want to be here. He was forced. I remember how broken he had been when he had realized my betrayal and how much it had hurt to see him go. I knew I needed to be there. I still had to get him out. I had to keep my promise. Nodding, I dumped the gruel out of the window and pulled out an apple to eat. I had a lot to consider and plenty of time to do it. As I chewed my food, it suddenly dawned on me; what if he was being treated the same way as the servants? Well, not the same-same as in terms of the work and all obviously but what if he was just as drugged as the servants were? Clearly the trolls were powerful in magie. Doing something brain-numbing to a man who has been cursed wouldn’t have been a stretch. 

I threw the core out the window to hide the evidence. Plans started formulating in mind as I laid my head down to sleep that evening.

I didn’t get a chance to really think about them. The next day, I seemed to be busier than ever. With the apparent wedding occurring within about a month’s time, the ladies of the court were more demanding than ever. I got a job improvement though because of it. One of the ladies accidentally tore her hem and she let out an unearthly screech, causing all heads to turn her way. She demanded the head seamstress come and fix her dress but it turned out that she was already busy with the wedding dress and could not come nor could any of the trolls working under her as they were busy with dresses for some of the more regal and royal women of the court. I swallowed hard. Slowly, I left my station on the wall. Several of them watched me with suspicion in their eyes but I carefully reached for a needle and thread nearby, stooped down, and repaired it within a few seconds. 

The motion had been so surprising that the troll woman didn’t have a chance to respond in anyway. Normally, that would have earned me a kick or a slap. I bowed once done and returned to my station. A few moments later, the head seamstress finally arrived to fix the repair. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she examined the seam, clearly asking questions of the woman who wore said dress, before she pointed to me. I kept my eyes down. The troll seamstress approached me. She looked me carefully up and down and ordered me to look up. I did. She continued looking for a few moments before grunting.

“Abora,” she snapped. I bowed my head and as she left, I followed. From that moment on, I found myself working as a seamstress, starting with the more basic designs until I proved my mettle and then I was allowed to work, alone, on some of the more regal outfits. I heard more rumors from my new station but nothing I didn’t already know. I had hoped that being there, I would get a chance to see the polar bear because of the fittings and everything but before either he or the queen entered, I was always ushered out.

Thus, I never saw my bear.


	71. Tom Dupain

I had a dream about Marinette. A nightmare really. I dreamed of her in a land of ice, running for her life one moment then standing her ground against something else a moment later and then… nothing. Pure white. No. It wasn’t suddenly. It was almost as if time had slowed as giant blocks of white collapsed onto my daughter. She screamed. I couldn’t hear it but I knew it, she screamed, covering her head only to be buried. 

I shot up from my sleep. Sabine, sleeping next to me, stirred, sitting up as well. I was panting. She gently placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently, trying to soothe me. I grabbed her hand gently. 

“I dreamed,” I struggled to tell her, “I dreamed of Marinette. In a land of white. Dying.” Her eyes widened in surprise. I squeezed her hand. “She’s in danger. Our little girl… she’s in danger.” She squeezed back before releasing me and climbing out of bed, heading to our wardrobe, opening it and reaching for a box at the top. I watched as she pulled out a little silver mirror. I remembered it. It was one she had brought from home. She came back then, climbing in bed with me as she showed it to me, a soft smile on her face as she softly spoke to me about it.

“This is a special mirror. My family has used it for generations. This is exactly how my father knew to tell us to get out when we could; he could see the men coming long before they actually arrived.” She smiled, tracing a finger over the reflective surface. She murmured words from her language.

It shimmered then moved as if like a drop had hit water. Slowly, an image came into shape. It was Marinette. She was sleeping on a stone bed with barely a blanket on her body; she was peaceful looking, a bit gaunt, but otherwise alright. My shoulders relaxed.

“I’ve been watching her,” she whispered. “I know your worries. I’ve been so scared for her so much; when something bad happens, I want to run to her more than anything but…” She smiled at me. “I trust our daughter. I know she’ll come home to us.” She traced her finger over the mirror again. Marinette disappeared. Sabine took the mirror and placed it on the table next to our bed before she hugged me tightly, her head resting on my chest. I hugged her back. My cheek rested on her head. “She’ll come home to us and when she does, it will be the happiest day of our lives.” I nodded, kissing her head.

We stayed like that for some time. Sleep eventually returned to us.

This time, my dreams were peaceful.


	72. Polar Bear

I remember how to play the piano. It’s one of the few things I do remember from the human world and it brought back fuzzy memories of days long ago; focusing on them doesn’t make them any clearer so I eventually gave up. Instead, I focused on practicing. The keys were familiar. I remembered them well. They rang under my touch and occasionally, my queen joined me, lounging on the couch behind me as I played, enjoying the impromptu, private performances. 

One day, she suddenly hugged me around the neck. I stopped playing. My hands smacked into the keys, creating a horrible mixed cord and she smiled. 

“Thomas! I just had the most wonderful idea. Why don’t you perform at our wedding?” I stared at her. 

“Perform, my queen,” I hesitantly asked.

She nodded, squeezing. “Yes, perform! I’m sure the people would love to hear your music.” I nodded, not sure what expression I should make but I bowed my head gratefully.

“Thank you my queen. I am so honored.” Her smiled brightened and she finally released me, practically skipping away as she informed me:

“I will postpone the wedding for one more week to give you time to practice!” She winked at me. “But only a week. I do not want to wait any longer for our union.” I bowed my head which she took for politeness as she blew me a kiss and left to inform everyone about the delay. My heart felt heavy. I was grateful for the treatment but I knew that something…. Something wasn’t right. I tried to remember why. My head only grew fuzzier. I hugged my shoulders; everything felt wrong and the more I thought of it all, being called “Thomas,” the hugs and affection of the queen towards me, the room, the music…. I couldn’t shake the feeling. I wanted to know. I needed to know what it was that made it feel wrong but I couldn’t; it seemed that when I did start to really think about it, my mind would grow foggy once more and then… it all felt right again. 

The feeling came. I opened my eyes, turned to the piano and began to practice.

This piece would be perfect for our wedding.


	73. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

About two weeks before the wedding, I found myself in the sewing room alone, working on one of the dresses for the richer court ladies. It was odd to be left alone. Usually the servants were not permitted to be because… well, because we were servants but the head seamstress seemed to like me enough that I was entrusted to behave while they were at the rehearsal dinner. I was tasked to finish three dresses before I was allowed to return to my room for the evening. She even gave me a loaf of bread as a reward for my good behavior and skill with a word of warning to eat it before I returned or I would be in trouble for stealing. I was so busy sewing on the delicate beads to the bust that I didn’t hear the door open. It wasn’t until there was a clear gasp from the person who entered that I stopped. I turned and gasped myself.

Tikki stood in the open doorway. The materials in her hands clattered to the floor and we moved at the same time, grasping each other in a tight embrace. Tears were definitely in both of our eyes. It took a few moments to regain ourselves but when we did, she held me out at arm’s length, “Marinette! What in the world are you doing here?”

“I came to rescue the polar bear,” I whispered. Her eyes went wide and she looked around, quickly releasing me to shut the door. When it was, she turned back to me.

“Why are you not like the other human servants?”

“I don’t eat the slag,” I admitted. “I’ve been stealing a little food from the ladies I’ve served but it’s pretty difficult to get it.” She nodded.

“I can bring you more.” She looked around again, “but not here. We should meet. Tonight. Elsewhere.” I leaned my head to the side.

“Will I be able to get out of my room?” She nodded again.

“Yes, the guards stop locking them after they believe you’ve taken the slag for some time.” Her face twisted. “They believe you are nothing more than dumb animals by then.” I absently reached for my left shoulder; shortly after my arrival, I had messed up, allowing a reindeer to run amuck in the courtyard before the creature was finally subdued. My punishment had been… harsh to say the least and for a month after, the wound on my shoulder had throbbed as an angry reminder to be careful in everything I did. I started to turn her down. She reached for my free hand which stopped my fear dead in its tracks. “I know a place close to the human quarters that we can meet; it’s out of sight and private so we should be safe to speak then.” She reached for a scrap piece of paper nearby, drawing me a crude map for where we should meet. Afterwards, she left. My heart was pounding but I was happy for the first time in months.

That night, I waited until the guards had finished their nightly rounds. It was easy to track them. Like Tikki had said, once they started believing that all of us were drugged, they started to get sloppy. They only checked the beds twice a night now. This was the first time. I had about five hours before they came back for the second round and since I didn’t plan to meet with her more than an hour each evening, I knew that I was going to be alright. 

We hugged again and sat together once we arrived. I told her everything: about my time in the Nordic lands with Eugenia and Elise, the ride on The Black Cat with Captain Jacobs and the crew, Sedna and Fu, the journey across the ice, and arriving at the castle. She spoke too. She gave me the details that I had been missing about my bear. He was fine and healthy, treated like royalty, but, just as I had suspected, he was constantly under the queen’s supervision and he was being fed the same drug as the servants. Not enough to make him completely without his senses but enough to make him forget everything about his life prior to being at the castle. 

I wanted nothing more than to punch that arrogant queen in the face.

How dare she mess with his memories!

Tikki gently touched my clenched my hand. I breathed, letting some of my anger go and we looked to each other. “The wedding will be in two weeks. I want to help you get Thomas away from here.” She bit her lip, fighting back tears. “I like you Marinette. I like Thomas. I want the both of you to be happy no matter what. I’ll help in any way I can, starting with this,” she offered, handing me some bread and cheese from the pack she’d brought with her. I smiled gratefully. 

“Thank you Tikki.” 

“I will try to grab more for you but I will have to be careful.” 

“I understand. Don’t get hurt because of me, please!” She smiled at me and patted my arm.

“I will. I promise.” Tikki eyed the candle she had brought. “We must go Marinette. You need to be in your room before the next check.” I nodded, grabbing my tattered blanket which served as my shawl. We parted ways once we had returned to the castle. I was certain that my timing was right; the guards were none the wiser of my nighttime adventure. Which was good because they began to become a regular occurrence. Tikki made it a fact to try to pass me at least once every couple of days and slip me food from the kitchen.

Missing meals had had an effect on me. I had been weaker than normal and often didn’t have the strength to stand most nights. Tikki’s help started to correct that. I felt myself growing stronger again and I took to practicing how to use my yo-yo at night after the guards had past. I made a practice range in my room. If I had an apple core, I sat it on my window sill and practiced knocking it out of my window until I was able to do it in one shot. On some nights, I snuck out of the room to meet with Tikki. We strategized and she helped with my yo-yo practice. I also got a piece of meat at these times, something that she feared to give me in the castle. The smell would’ve alerted the guards to our activities. 

One day, she admitted to me that she sadly couldn’t do too much. Especially when it came to finding or dealing with Thomas; she was a lower servant. She wasn’t given too much access to him. I pursed my lips. “What about Plagg? Would he be willing to help?” She thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Of course he would. Plagg really likes Thomas.” She paused. “If we get him involved… then we need to get Wayzz involved too. He could probably work something out to get Plagg close to him if needed.” I gripped my chin lightly.

“I think I have a plan,” I slowly stated, “and it will need Plagg to get close to Thomas.” A smile started to cross my lips as I unfurled it to her, finally glad that something was going right.

We only had a week to prepare.


	74. Chloé Bourgeois

Of all the odd occurrences, I was approached by Wayzz. He made an earnest request of me: Please allow Plagg to serve as a personal servant to my fiancée. He wrung his hands together.

“You see your majesty,” he explained, “Plagg has a certain fondness for him and ever since we have returned, he has gotten… worse in his habits. If he were to serve him, I’m sure that Plagg would be the most exceptional of servants, and a comfort to the young master as a familiar face.” I paused. Thomas was still struggling to adjust, which I saw in the way his face twisted at times, and, so, it only made sense that having yet another familiar face with him would only help to ease the transition more. I contemplated this for a moment.

“I see no harm in it,” I slowly mused. “Very well. Inform Plagg that he will become Thomas’ primary servant and give him this warning Wayzz: should he lack in anyway then I will personally send him to the Frozen Forest.” His face paled but he nodded. Wayzz bowed and stayed that way until he was out of the room.

I was left to finalize the wedding preparations.


	75. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The first part of the plan worked.

The queen bought the lie easily, never suspecting a thing.

Between the four of us, everything was beginning to fall into place.

It wouldn’t be too much longer before we were ready to make our move.


	76. Polar Bear

I remembered Plagg from the castle. It was good to see him, and Wayzz, after months of not seeing any of them. They bowed to me and Wayzz politely explained that Plagg was to act as my personal servant from then on; an idea which pleased me greatly, bringing a smile to my face. It only took a couple of days for me to remember what kind of a personality he had: he was lazy but kind and always ready with a sarcastic piece of advice. He treated me like a human. I wasn’t a fragile doll with him. It was a nice change of pace so we made sure to keep it a secret from the queen. 

When I practiced, he was always at my side. He didn’t lounge like the queen did. He sat on the sunny window sill, his tail swinging below him as he closed his eyes, listening to the notes that rang from the cords. I even heard him humming the song one day. It was nice to know he enjoyed it.

The best thing about having Plagg around was my thinking.

It was starting to clear with him. I was beginning to remember things. A red ball. A weird voice. A castle. A spell. A curse. Fur. Changing. I began to remember the long years, in detail, that I had spent at the castle. Yet, I knew I was still missing something. There was something I was forgetting and I knew it was important but, try as I might, I couldn’t get it to come all the way back. 

I didn’t let this bother me though. Soon, everything was going to be as it should have been.


	77. Chloé Bourgeois

The day was here.

The day that we were to be wed.

In the morning, Thomas and I were officially going to be husband and wife.

As I sat having my make-up fixed by Sabrina, my dress readied for the ball that evening by the other servants, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking that, in the end, there was nothing that foolish girl could do to ruin this day. She was probably off living her life. Regretting her mistake. Good! 

Finally, Thomas was mine.

I had won.


	78. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Today was the day.

There was no going back.

The wedding was a major holiday, celebrated over several days by all the trolls in the kingdom. Everything was shut down. The head seamstress made sure to inform me that my services were not going to be needed and I stared blankly at her like the dumb puppet I was to be. All the servants were going to be locked in their rooms. No guards were going to roam that part of the castle. That night, my hands sweated and I paced nervously.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, could go wrong with this plan or it would be the end of all of us.

Evening came faster than I expected. As expected though, the daily gruel was pushed into our rooms early on and, from there, our doors were all locked with a loud -clank-. I waited until the guards were gone. Then, I hesitantly reached for it, mumbling, “I order you lock to undo yourself” which it did with another loud -clank-. I pushed it open. Tikki had had the foresight and knowledge to teach me this spell so that I might make my way back to our meeting place where I had moved my bag, out from where I had stashed it upon my arrival, some light makeup and hair pieces, and the mask I’d made in secret in the sewing room. I met all three of them there. Wayzz nodded. 

“We don’t have much time. The schedule is very packed. Today will be the masquerade ball and pre-wedding celebration. The actual ceremony won’t be until tomorrow evening.” Plagg’s tail twitched.

“If this goes off alright, we won’t have to worry about the thing tomorrow.”

“Then let’s make sure it does,” I added. The three of them nodded, helping me to dress. I pulled the red dress I had made at the bear’s castle out of Alya’s journal. It unfolded naturally. Quickly I changed into it before sitting down and allowing the three of them to fuss over my makeup and hair. When it was done, Tikki held up a small mirror. I was pleased by what I saw. My hair was curled and pulled up to one side, allowing it to cascade over my shoulder. Plagg handed me my mask. It was primarily red but there were four half circle, black dots over and under each eye with black trim around the outside. A red rose sat on one corner, just above the string. I fastened it to my face. Standing, Wayzz handed me my traveling cloak.

“The ball should have started by now. It should be safe to go inside.”

“But, just in case, I’ll go with you,” Tikki said, stepping forward. I nodded. 

“Let’s go then. We don’t have too much time to waste.” We left the cave then. Heading back into the castle was odd; no one was around which meant that there was no sound. My head felt dizzy in the silence. It was unnatural. Tikki lead me primarily down back ways. My heart was pounding in my chest. I swallowed hard. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hide,” she hissed. I blinked. Coming around the corner from where we were, was the sound of marching. Heavy, metallic feet moved at the same time. Guards. They were all supposed to be at the party! I froze in my spot, my feet unwilling to move. My shoulder throbbed. We could see their shadows growing larger on the crystal walls as they stepped ever so closer to us… it wouldn’t have been too much longer until we were staring them in the face. I closed my eyes and waited.

Tikki grabbed my hand. She pulled me into a room off on the right, one that was clearly used for storage and she shut the door as softly as possible. We held our breaths. Eventually, the feet were upon us but they didn’t stop; listening for a few minutes told us that they were gone. We released our breaths. She popped her head out.

She chirped, “They’re gone.” We both stepped back in the hallway. “We should be more careful. I didn’t think any guards would really be on patrol today.” 

“I didn’t either but you’re right. Let’s go.” Thankfully, there were no more run-ins between us and the ballroom. Tikki opened that door too and looked inside. She nodded when she saw that no one was looking. I quickly took off my cloak and handed it to her. 

“Good luck Mari,” she whispered. I smiled, gave her a pat on the head and slipped inside. 

The room was magical. The ceilings were high and vaulted with beautiful and elegant sky-paintings on it. A giant crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room with a multitude of smaller ones all around it. The room sparkled with the life and magic and joy that exuberated from its occupants; a merry waltz was played by a small orchestra and some people were in the middle already, dancing the night away in celebration. I stayed mostly to the outside, whispering yet another spell that Tikki had taught me to help hide myself from searching eyes; thankfully not too many of the trolls were interested in me as I moved around, searching myself. Finally I spotted him. My mouth dropped.

The queen, a petite blonde woman with blue eyes, stood regally looking over the crowd, her arm draped through his own. She wore a shimmering blue dress with a long white cape. He wore a black outfit with a green strip across his chest. He looked like a captain returning from a battle or even a real prince. His golden hair was slicked back and his eyes were as green as I remembered them to be. I swallowed hard. Once more, my nerves got the better of me. The waltz came to an end and the dancers stopped which prompted everyone to applaud. The queen leaned up and whispered something to him. Thomas nodded. She released his arm, allowing him to step from the platform they stood on to proceed to the dance floor, taking the hand of the first lady he came upon as a new song began. She practically swooned off of her feet. I took a deep breath and moved closer. I watched. He spun around one side of the room a few times before the dancing finally had him move closer to where I was, and I waited until he was in reach, changing partners. He grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled me into the dance. I was sure the troll I had just cut off muttered a curse towards me. 

Time felt like it stopped for a second. He stared at me, his eyes going wide as he squeezed my hand. “You,” he started, “you are a human. A servant?” I smiled and shook my head. He wasn’t fazed in the moment, keeping up easily with the music; I nearly fell. He tightened his grip on me. “Not a servant uh? How did you get here?”

“It’s a long story I replied.” I could see the look of confusion that crossed his face. He was struggling with himself and it hurt to realize that he did not recognize who I was. I was nothing more than a stranger at that point. We spun again. 

“Very well then. What are you doing here?” I bit my lip. 

“Would you believe that I came to see you,” I practically whispered. His eyes widened again and then narrowed.

“You know I am to be wedded to the queen tomorrow,” he asked. I nodded, spinning with him this time.

“I know it,” I breathed. “But you don’t have to.” I tightened my own grip on him. “You could come with me. We can make our escape from here, go home, be free and happy for the rest of our lives.” 

Another spin.

Thomas’ expression softened. “I’m sorry. You must be mistaken. I am very happy here and do not wish to be anywhere else. My life belongs with my queen.” The music finally stopped as did all the dancers but while the rest of them clapped, we stayed facing each other. I was sure I was shattering in front of him. “I think it’s best,” he finally stated, releasing me, “That you leave.” He gave me a polite bow and turned, leaving the dance floor to return to the queen. I watched. My face grew paler and paler with each step he took but there was nothing within me to stop him. 

My heart shattered when I caught sight of the queen who reattached herself to him, smiling smugly. 

I turned on the spot and ran. I didn’t care who saw me this time and there were murmurs of confusion from behind me. Tikki was still outside the door. She ran to me when she saw me but I said nothing, snatching my cloak away from her as I kept going, tears streaming down my face. 

“Marinette! Wait!”

I didn’t wait. I ran.

I ran and ran and ran until I ended up at the reindeer stables. I didn’t care if the trolls hunted me for the rest of eternity for taking one nor did I care what they would do if they found me; I just wanted to go home. My heart was broken. It was completely shattered on that dance floor and I could only imagine the queen dancing with him now, enjoying the sound it made as she stepped on every little piece. I grabbed a fistful of fur, pulling myself on the back of the creature before spurring it out the open door. Its hooves thundered on the ground. As we came from the stable, Tikki, Plagg, and Wayzz appeared, all wide-eyed and breathless, calling out my name. There was nothing they could do. They watched as I disappeared out of the castle.

Time passed so slowly. Still, I couldn’t keep track of it. I pushed the poor beast as hard as I could, making sure I got as far away from that castle as quickly as I could. We rode for a night. Day had begun to rise when the creature finally slowed to a trot, unable to go faster or further at the speeds I had been pushing it. I left my face buried in its neck. My lashes were frozen and my cheeks stung from the cold and tears.

I didn’t think my heart could have hurt this badly.

The reindeer came to a halt. It snorted and pawed at the ground, something clearly troubling it. I sniffed and sat up, wiping my tears off of my cheeks. My eyes went wide when I could see again. We were in a forest. Tall frozen trees stood on either side of where we were; this led us into a clearing where the fading sunlight sparkled through the exposed parts of it. 

There were things in the middle of this wide clearing.

At first I thought they were statues.

However, as I looked closer, I nearly became sick to my stomach.

Those weren’t statues.

They were humans.

One could still see the details of every one of them. They still wore the clothing they had been thrown out in and a faint memory tickled the back of my mind; earlier on in my time of being a servant, I had seen a young woman dragged away for failing to clean up after the reindeer properly. Was this… was this where she was brought? I never saw her again after that day and fear settled in my heart.

Humans were disposable.

Thomas was in danger! 

At any moment that selfish queen could decide to get rid of him and if that happened, then his destiny was here in this forest. I gasped. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let that happen. One way or another, I was going to get him out of here; kicking and screaming if I must.

I groaned. My noble personality was probably going to be the death of me. It was half a day’s ride back so I turned the animal and leaned down to pet its neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I know you’ve done a lot for me but we need to go back, and quickly. I promise you will rest upon our return.” He snorted as if he understood. I nodded and sat up straight. I spurred him on and he bolted, heading back the way we’d come.

It seemed like I was going to ruin this wedding, one way or another.


	79. Polar Bear

I dreamed.

I dreamed of a blue eyed girl like the queen but she is not golden haired; she is dark haired.

Her laugh was magical.

Memories of my past flew back but I couldn’t remember her.

I felt that I should.

Soft hands grabbed my shoulders. Someone gently shook me and I woke to find the queen leaning over me, her face neutral as she examined me. It softened a bit when she realized that I had finally awoken and come to my senses a bit. She stroked my hair, “What’s wrong my love? I heard you crying in your sleep.” I frowned. I placed a hand to my forehead, musing with my hair.

“I do not know,” I whispered. She eyed me but pulled me into a hug. I did not have the energy to hug her back. After a few seconds, she held me at her arm’s length. She snapped her fingers. A servant who wasn’t Plagg entered with a tray and I saw that it contained one mug which steamed. She grabbed it. The servant bowed out of the room. She held it up and offered it to me. 

“Here my love. Drink this. It will calm your nerves.” I took the mug and stared at the liquid inside. It was brown. Probably chocolate. I put it on my nightstand. She frowned at me but I smiled at her.

“I’m alright,” I lied, “It was probably just a bad dream. Worries about the wedding and everything. I don’t even recall what it was about now.” She eyed me for a second more but nodded, finally accepting it. She wrapped her silken robe tighter around her body and stood, brushing her fingers down the side of my face. 

“I will be here again,” she assured me, “if you need me.” I kissed her hand.

“Thank you,” I whispered. She offered me one final smile and left. I waited until I was sure she was gone. Then, I stood, taking the mug to the window and dumping it outside. I knew that it was the food and drink that caused my mind to be fuzzy and I would not have that anymore.

As I laid back in bed, the blue eyed girl, the one I danced with returned to my mind.

Maybe… maybe I should have left with her.

Maybe she was the one I was meant to be with.

Why couldn’t I remember her name?

As sleep came over me again, I suddenly realized that I didn’t know what to believe anymore. This made me uneasy. 

Dawn was coming too fast.


	80. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

My body ached a lot when I finally rode back into the castle. The reindeer, bless him, had run once more non-stop all through the morning and into the afternoon, finally arriving back in the castle just in time for the ceremony. I quickly dismounted. Even though I hurt, I ran, trying to make it in time. 

The sun wasn’t at its highest yet.

The official ceremony hadn’t taken place yet. 

I was thankful that there weren’t any trolls around to stop me or kill me. From what Wayzz had told me, Thomas should be playing the piano now which would be followed by some words from the queen before it went into the exchanging of vows. I found my way into the castle through a side door. However, when I tried to enter another hall, I found the door to be locked and so, swearing, I turned and looked for another way. That door was locked too. 

It seemed that every door was locked for the ceremony. I stopped, panting. 

I wasn’t going to make it.

“Marinette,” a voice called to me. I turned and found Plagg running up to me. He caught me in a hug which was a surprise. “You came back,” he cheered. I nodded and bit my lip.

“I’m sorry about that.” He shook his head.

“We found out what happened. I’m just sorry we couldn’t help you wake him up.” His tail twitched, “But I think you might have a better chance today. He woke up last night and….”

“Plagg, we don’t have much time.” I pointed to the sky. He stopped.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me in a certain direction, “Follow me. We’ll take the servants’ halls since they haven’t been locked. It’s a longer route but we should make it in time.” I nodded and ran with him as he pulled me along. Silently, I prayed that we would.


	81. Polar Bear

The trolls applauded politely when I finished with the piano. It wasn’t a sincere motion; I was pretty sure that many of them didn’t honestly know how to respond to it since music, like this, was pretty absent here. Still, I bowed in thanks to them. The queen stood from her throne and the room fell silent. 

“My people,” she started, “today is a momentous day. Today the trolls will have their first human king.” She smiled brightly at them. “I know, it is odd for trolls to have a human king but time will help us all. This land will be perfection with I and King Thomas leading it.” She turned then, her smile still as bright as it was, to face me. “Now, we will exchange our vows.” My throat went dry and my tongue was swollen. My head was spinning. I wasn’t ready! This was happening all too fast.

Without meaning to, I shouted, “Wait!” All eyes fell on me. The queen’s face twisted and she moved closer, catching my hands in hers.

“What’s wrong,” she whispered to me. I floundered for a second. I wasn’t sure what to say. 

Grasping, I stuttered out, “Th-there’s a human tradition I would like for you to follow. Before we say our vows.” She leaned her head to the side, slightly confused. I swallowed hard. “I need… I need you to clean the shirt I wore on the night of our arrival here!” The room began to mumble. I wondered if I had overstepped a line until she held up a hand, indicating silence from the people. They did just that.

“Very well,” she conceded. She turned and motion to Tikki who approached with her face down. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is Plagg?”

“He has taken ill your majesty,” she whispered. The queen rolled her eyes.

“Of course he has. Fetch me some soap and a tub of water. Quickly now.” Tikki bowed and scurried off to gather the required materials. I released a silent breath. My lie was bought.

I’d only bought myself a few moments though.


	82. Chloé Bourgeois

Thomas’s request was odd. I was sure that all of his human memories were gone.

However, I would honor it since all of his memories would be gone for good in a little while. One final request would hurt nothing. I had already waited two hundred years for him to be my husband, a few more minutes would not hurt. 

Tikki returned with the tub and soap as I had ordered; she set them up in the middle of the aisle where all could see. I snapped my fingers. Tikki approached me carefully and removed my veil and helped to tie up my sleeves. She also offered an apron to protect the front of my dress which I wore begrudgingly. I must have been a sight to see. A queen! Looking like a common maid! In her wedding dress! On her wedding day! No one laughed at the sight though which was a wise decision as I wasn’t sure what I would have done to them otherwise. 

I stooped at the tub and took the shirt from Wayzz who had gone to retrieve it. Everyone watched as I held it up, exposing the stain on the front. Then I placed it in the water and began to scrub. This happened for a few minutes. Taking it out, my face paled.

The spot was still there.

It hadn’t shrunk.

I placed it back in and tried again. The same result. A third time; same result. Anger started to boil in my blood and the fourth time I placed it in, I made sure to channel some of my magie into it, scrubbing as hard as I could. I was panting when I pulled it up, sure of my success.

Everyone gasped. My face paled.

The stain was bigger.

This was impossible! It should have already shrunk by now. The trolls began to mutter and I realized that the situation was beginning to leave my control. I turned to tell Thomas that I would no longer follow this tradition, and we would say our vows there, when a strong, loud, clear voice asked, “May I try?” Every head in the room turned to the doors. My head snapped up. Standing there was a rather beautiful girl in a red dress and mask. I knew her. I would recognize her anywhere and I practically hissed. 

How in the world did she get here?

I started to stand, to order the guards to capture her, but Thomas stepped forward, his eyes locked on her. She walked towards us, clearly unafraid. I could feel the heat rising in my stomach but I swallowed it down.  
“Let her try,” he ordered. I blinked, utterly confused by it. The murmurs in the room started again. Thomas turned on me, his eyes serious and determined, “Let her try.” I bit my cheek but nodded. Plagg appeared next to her and I narrowed my eyes at him, making a note to send him to the Frozen Forest at the first opportunity. She spoke to him quietly. He nodded and left which sent the room into more murmurs. When he returned moments later, Plagg had brought a large black cauldron, wood for a fire, and water. All eyes were on her as she started her process.

She boiled the water. When it was ready, she gently placed the shirt inside. After a few minutes, she carefully pulled it out and transferred it to the tub where she knelt, scrubbing gently on the washboard. When she was done, she raised the shirt for all to see.

A gasp went throughout the room.

The stain was completely gone.

Thomas started to move towards her. Rage boiled in my blood. There was no more containing it. It radiated out of me like the power of the sun.

I would not let him go.

He was mine!

I raised my hand. Fire emanated from it, shooting out and straight towards the girl. There was no time for her to dodge. I was going to win. Thomas was going to be mine! She ducked, trying to protect herself but it did her no good; I could control it and I made it turn towards her.

Suddenly, there was a streak of black and my flames hit something. What or who it was, I didn’t care.

There was a scream.

Chaos broke loose.


	83. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Plagg fell in front of me. Time came to a crawl as I watched in complete horror, unable to do anything, as the magie from the queen slammed into him with what felt like the power of the sun; he flew and someone screamed. The trolls scattered. I didn’t see where Thomas went. My eyes were glued on the slumped body. Shaking, I reached for him. Plagg gave a cough as I turned him over and I had to fight back the tears as I stared at the gaping wound across his chest. It was bad.

There was going to be no way to fix this. 

He smiled up at me weakly and gently took my hand. I sniffed. "Make him happy," he whispered. I nodded, leaning my forehead on his. Tikki and Wayzz had joined us, looks of complete horror and shock etched on their faces. Maybe they said something through their minds but Tikki gave a soft cry and Wayzz nodded which made a smile cross Plagg's face before he turned and gave one final shuddering breath.

He was gone. 

My body went cold. Then as hot as the sun itself. I laid Plagg down next to the other two, letting them protect him from the rampage that was the queen as I pulled my yo-yo out from under my dress.

I was not going to lose to this woman.

Not now, and not ever.

She raised her hand, her eyes wild as she stared me down. Her wedding dress was in shatters and her hair rose up in all directions, a creature no longer of this world, but a raging goddess who had every intention of destroying everything around her for the mere pleasure of keeping one man chained to her side for the rest of eternity. I bit my lip. The yo-yo made a hissing noise as I spun it in front of me. We were ready. This was going to happen. She fired her magie. I dodged it, flinging my yo-yo at her feet. It wrapped around her ankle and I tugged, pulling her off balance for a second which sent the next blast towards the ceiling. Someone screeched. Trolls were every, cowering, or running, covering their heads in an attempt to make it out of the room without injury as the blasts began to crumble the room around us. I sent my yo-yo flying again. This time, she knocked it away. Another shake. A large piece of the ice ceiling fell.

Thomas was in the way. I gasped, sending my weapon to him this time, wrapping him around the middle as I tugged, pulling him away from where it landed with the sound of a thousand shattering crystal glasses. I smiled with relief. Once the yo-yo returned to me, I turned my attention back to the queen. She was already warming up another blast. This time, I aimed for her hand, wrapping it tightly before tugging and sending it this time into the floor harmlessly.

She let out an unearthly screech.

"Woah," I cried as she turned my technique on me, tugging me to her. I landed with a -thud- at her feet. She stood over me, laughing as only a creature who had lost their mind could. I rolled out of the line of her next blast but stood, making sure that I had a direct line of attack, before I ran to her and, without hesitating, punched her in the cheek. My thumb was most certainly broken but I would have paid a million more coins just to do it again. She turned, a sense of shock and horror emanating from her before she too turned and punched at me. It was much stronger than I expected. I nearly feel as my head whipped back. We went back and forth like this for some minutes. I landed a blow. She landed a few. Sometimes I dodged. Sometimes she dodged. However, her magie continued to grow. The walls of the ice palace began to weep as it grew; I was blinded by it as it reached its final moments, and the queen, screamed, her power no longer under her control as she collapsed, the magie finally leaving her in an explosion of energy. I groaned from where I had been thrown. She was gone. 

There wasn't any time to celebrate though. The palace was collapsing from the queen's magie and bit by bit shattered as it landed around us. I stood, wobbling, looking around in a panic. One of my eyes was already swollen shut from having been punched by the queen but I could still see, looking for Thomas. He was across the room, hiding under a table for protection. Our eyes met. I smiled and he did too. Then his face paled. He yelled something.

"Marinette! Move!" I blinked. He... remembered me? He remembered me! I wanted to do a little cheer right then and there but he screamed again and I whipped my head back to find a giant piece of the ceiling heading straight for me. I jumped. A silent prayer rose out of my heart that it was enough.

It turned out to be too much.

I fell and not gracefully. My head smacked hard into the remnants of a pillar. The world became a blur around me until it faded into darkness.

*****

I couldn't say how much time had passed. When I woke though, the world was quiet and muted grey; I could see ice all around me and it appeared that the palace had finally finished collapsing, setting the area into an eerie silence. I groaned and tried to move. Strong hands forced me to stay down and I blinked. Looking up, I found myself lying in the arms of Thomas who stared at me with worry, his brow furrowed as he looked me over. I turned scarlet. 

"Marinette," he breathed. "Thank goodness. You're alright. I was afraid you...." His voice caught in his throat which prompted me to smile gently at him. I reached up with my free, and good, hand, cupping his face. 

"I wouldn't leave you like that," I whispered. He nodded in my hand.

"I remember," he told me, "our time at the castle Marinette. I remember being the polar bear. I remember." My heart did tiny somersaults. I swallowed hard.

"Then you remember... what I did?"

"Yes," he breathed. Tears threatened my eyes and I wanted nothing more than to fall apart right then and there. I didn't stop them this time.

"I'm so sorry! You asked me not too but I was so scared from the nightmares that I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know. I should've known better and I should've trusted you more. If I had, none of this would've happened and you would've been free and...."

"Marinette," he cut me off. I fell silent as he brushed my bangs off of my forehead. "Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the baker's daughter. The girl who was brave enough to stare at a polar bear even when it put her life at risk; the same one who left home with that same bear for her family's sake, who fearlessly lectured said bear when he left her alone, and who made it clear that she never had any intentions of causing harm to those around her." He gently kissed my forehead. I thought my heart was going to explode. When he pulled back, he finished with, "Can't you see? I've already forgiven you. Thank you for coming to get me."

"You're welcomed," I breathed. A soft scratching sound came from above us and we turned in enough time to see some of the ice fall in, revealing a small hole with two sets of hands, red and green. Tikki's face appeared there. She smiled at us in relief.

"Thomas! Marinette! You're alright."

"Yes," he returned. He hesitated for a second before asking, "I know this isn't an appropriate time but could you please stop referring to me as Thomas?" Tikki leaned her head to the side.

"Is that not your name?" He shook his head.

"The queen gave that name to me," he said slowly. My face fell. A thousand thoughts began to race in my head, causing me to feel dizzy but I swallowed them down, focusing on the present moment. The two of us sat up as much as we could to help and eventually, between the four of us, the hole became large enough that we were able to climb out. I hugged Tikki. She immediately looked me over and told me to sit still as she casted her magie over me; it was a spell I had apparently not learned and it sounded pretty out of my league but it fixed me up and I opened both of my eyes, able to see everything around me once more. She smiled at her handy work. Then, our faces fell and tears threatened our eyes. The two of them had protected Plagg. He was now lying on a spot in the room that was different from where he had originally landed; his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. Tikki grabbed the sleeve of my dress. I swallowed hard and took it with my opposite hand, squeezing. The bear-man and Wayzz said nothing. 

Slowly, I managed to say, "We... we should give him a proper funeral." They all nodded. He picked him up and carried him from the hall as we made our way across the ruins of the palace. Bodies laid everywhere. The silence filled every inch of the place. It was unnerving. We eventually made it outside; no one remained. No humans and no trolls; all we could hear and see were the reindeer, now free of their stables, milling about in search of food. He adjusted his hold on him. 

"Do we... do we have to bury him here?" I shook my head.

"No, let's bury him outside, away from here." He nodded. The four of us spent the afternoon gathering supplies for two sleighs. I couldn't help but think as we worked. Thomas wasn't his name. It was one the queen had given him. Yet, he had no clue to what his true name was and it made me a little worried; I couldn't very well keep calling him the "polar bear" or "bear-man" now could I? I stole little glances when I could. He was worried. I knew he was. His memories were not complete and while he could remember events of the more recent past, within the last two years, he couldn't remember his origins that well. We were in the stables when I asked him. I was pulling one of the harnesses off the wall to hand to him when we touched, electricity running between the two of us. My eyes widened. I wasn't the only one who felt it. His expression mirrored my own. I took a deep breath, "What is your name?" 

A moment of silence. His face twisted the longer he thought about it and finally he told me, "I... I don't remember." My heart nearly stopped but I put on a happy expression (albeit forced) and I nodded.

"That's alright," I soothed. "It'll probably come back to you. Let's just give it some time." He nodded, taking the harness from me. He didn't wait, turning on his heels with the thing and exiting the barn. I felt cold. Not just externally, internally now as well. 

Had I messed up again?

Should I have asked the question?

I stamped my worry down. No, I wasn't wrong. Eventually I was going to have to ask anyway.

I followed behind him with the next harness. 

By the time twilight fell, both sleighs were ready to go. We climbed in them and took off across the palace grounds and over the ice bridge, leaving our nightmare behind. The only time we stopped was after we had left the bridge far behind. Plagg was laid to rest on the ice. It was a modest ceremony. All of us took our chance to say good bye. Tikki clung to me for dear life as she looked at the grave of her friend, sniffing. He handed her a handkerchief which she took gratefully. When were done, Wayzz smiled to the two of us. "You'll have to hurry across the ice. The warm season is coming which means it'll be treacherous to travel on if you're not careful. You have about a week before that happens. Run your team as hard as you can."

"You're not coming with us," he asked. Wayzz shook his head, taking Tikki's hand.

"No, we are going to go home ourselves."

"You see," Tikki added, "we aren't trolls. We are kwamis. We were born in a land a lot further south than here but we were taken really young; we know where we are from but we barely remember it."

"Are you two going to be alright," I asked. They nodded. 

"As long as we are together, we'll be fine," Wayzz assured us. I smiled and knelt to give them both a tight hug.

"Take care of yourselves," he told them, shaking hands with Wayzz before hugging Tikki. 

"You two do the same," Tikki wished. "Fate will definitely be smiling on the two of you from now on."

We watched as they climbed into their sleigh. Wayzz took the reins and with a quick snap of them, took off over the ice. We stayed like that until they were out of sight before we too climbed into our vehicle and took off in the opposite direction. Silence fell between us in the week that we traveled. You would think that for two people who hadn't seen each other in nearly half a year, we would have loads to tell each other but it didn't happen that way; we made pleasant small talk but spent a majority of our time together in silence. Worry still ate at our hearts. I knew that he was in pain. Pain for having no answers to the unspoken questions about who he was or where he had come from that both of us wanted the answers to. Thankfully, the journey back to the village was much shorter. We arrived to a welcoming party of all ages as they came to greet the sleigh; Sedna, Fu, Krishna, Thomas, Dai, and Fai were all there and I practically jumped into their arms when I saw them. Then, suddenly, out of one of the tents walked Leo, Johnson, Theodore, and Jacques who greeted me as enthusiastically as the others had. I introduced them to him as much as I could, stuttering to them that he was the "polar bear" from the stories I had shared. They greeted him just as warmly. He returned it but hung back after that. I was certain that he wasn't too sure or aware of what he needed to do at times like these.

They told me of everything that had happened since I went across the ice. Leo apparently had awoken a few weeks after I had left. Fu had been able to reduce the swelling in his head from a powerful blow he had taken when one of the barrels had been swept overboard. The other three shared their story as well: apparently they too had gone over and had drifted away from The Cat that when they came too, they were floating in an endless blue sea. Another freighter ship, thankfully, passed near to them and it stopped, pulling them aboard before taking them to England where they proceeded to hunt down another ship to go searching for The Cat. They found a French ship that was off duty at the time and the captain, an old friend of Jacobs, agreed to help them search for her. Thus, the ship was here to deliver to Jacobs his old crew so that the newly repaired ship could head off for their newest journey; Jacobs, who had healed to the point of now standing, had a twinkle of mischief in his eyes at the thought and I held out a hand, warning him that he should still take it easy. He only laughed and returned the gesture. Everyone bade me farewell as they boarded the ship and set sail, heading for that grand adventure.

I hope they found it. The French captain agreed to take both I and the bear-man home. I turned to Sedna and Fu who both smiled at me from ear to ear. I gave them both quick hugs and words of thanks for all of their help before I followed my polar bear up the ramp of the ship. 

My heart squeezed.

I was finally going home.


	84. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I would be a complete and total liar if I said that traveling with him was easy. It wasn't that he was a bad person; on the contrary, he proved himself time and time again to be a wonderful, blindingly brilliant man who was willing to help anyone in times of trouble. But it was hard to talk to him. To talk to others. He was a man with nothing. No home, no name, no family. It hurt. I tried to ask him about it but all he could tell me was that years had passed, generations even, and he couldn't remember anything.

I worried a lot for him.

It was going to take a while to adjust. I had to be there for him. I had to be his strength no matter what. I knew I could do it.

I just wasn't sure how to show him that everything was going to be alright.

A few weeks later, we landed in Auray, a port city in the north-western part of France and my heart nearly skipped a beat. As soon as my feet hit ground, I looked for a messenger and found one, handed him a letter I had written on the way home, and paid him double with the coins still buried in my bag to "make sure it reached The Dupain-Cheng Bakery, today." He nodded his head. I watched as he disappeared down the street. Turning, I smiled at the bear-man, taking his hand. "Come on," I tugged. "Let's find a ride home." He nodded but followed me as we searched the for a wagon heading that way, paid our passage, said good bye to the captain and headed off to Paris.

My heart was pounding erratically.

We were so close to home!


	85. Polar Bear

I am a man with nothing.

I remember nothing of my life before being a bear.

What right did I have to her?

I saw the fear and confusion in her face; I wasn’t sure why she made those expressions. Was she scared of me? Was she scared for me? I did try to ask but every time I went to say something, she would leave and I would be left to stare out over the sea and then the land as we continued to travel back to her home. She kept calling it "our home" and that made some warmth rise in my chest. Our journey from the palace of ice was tense. I attempted small talk but wasn't sure what to say. What could I say? My memories only extended back about ten years. I had been cursed at that time. Despite this, there were times I would think that everything was changing, going well, and then suddenly, she pulled away, afraid, it appeared, of me.

Not that I could blame her.

After all, how does one not fear an unknown person? Or fear what strangers would think when she introduced me as "friend" and "having lost my memory and therefore did not have a name?" My missing history was a problem and as we sat in the back of a rickety wagon, heading for Paris, I came to a certain bitter reality.

I needed to find out who I was.

That meant that I had to leave my lady for a while.


	86. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

After almost a year of being away, I was finally home. The wagon came to a creaking stop in the middle of the city and we thanked the driver, taking our things and heading straight for the bakery. I could barely contain my excitement. When I saw the beautiful, deep green door, I all but ran to it, flinging it open to find my parents behind the counter, serving a customer or two. They stopped, dropping their work immediately to the shock and amazement of those who watched, as they came around the counter and caught me in the tightest embrace I'd received to date.

I couldn't and wouldn't stop the tears.

When we broke apart, they asked to finish with the customers while I went upstairs to unpack. I nodded and led him up with me. A few minutes later, they came running up, hugging me again. I laughed, a genuine laugh. They demanded to know everything that had happened since I had left nearly a year ago and I told them that it was going to be a long story.

They made sure to let me know that that was no problem. They had all the time in the world to listen.

I nodded but before I did, I grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. Stuttering once more, I introduced him to my parents and they immediately warmed to him; Maman leaned over to me and whispered, "I'm glad your concerns were real." I smiled. We sat around the dining room table as I began to recount the adventures we had gone through, with a lot of omission, when the door to the bakery rang and a voice called out to us.

"Hello? Why is the bakery locked?"

"I don't know," a second voice joined in. "Maybe they had something to do?"

"They would have let me know some way." Papa went to the door leading downstairs.

"We're upstairs Alya, Nino. Why don't you two come join us?" My heart squeezed. As soon as the two of them were clear of the stairs, I ran to them, hugging them tightly. They didn't react at first. I think it took them a moment but finally, it dawned on them what was happening and Alya let out an unearthly screech as she hugged me back, practically bouncing me up and down and cheering. Nino hugged me just as tightly. When we broke apart, I once more introduced the bear-man hesitantly, unsure of what to say. Nino though didn't hesitate. He held out a hand.

"So you're the bear that likes music. You play?” His eyes twinkled as he shook his hand.

"Piano. You?" Nino nodded.

"Flute.” I giggled.

“He’s pretty good too.” He raised an eyebrow at me but I playfully looked away.

"Only 'pretty good?' You know I'm better than that."

"To be fair," I added, "I did only get to hear the tail end of your performance for your wedding." That got a good round of shocked looks from the other four and I had to fight back a fit of giggles.

"Mari," Alya gasped, "You did not ruin his wedding and steal the groom away!" I stuck my tongue at her.

"I completely did! I was just telling my parents what happened so you better sit down. This is going to take a while." Nino cleared his throat.

"Before that happens, I have something I need to do." He reached into the bag at his side and pulled out a delicate ring. It looked expensive and I imagined that it had taken quite a bit of his funds from the troupe to purchase but we all smiled brightly as he knelt in front of Alya and asked, "Alya Césaire, will you marry me?" Her mouth dropped. "I wanted to wait until Mari got home because I know how worried all of us were for her. Besides, it wouldn't have been right to not have her here for our wedding." Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn't speak as she nodded her approval. The rest of us clapped and cheered. My soul felt contented. I leaned back into the bear-man with a happy sigh on my lips; it was the happiest I had been to date and I didn't think I could ever feel it any more than I did that day.


	87. Tom Dupain

That evening, after the newly engaged couple left to share the news with their families, we sat ourselves down to an extravagant dinner made by Sabine and Marinette. I attempted to speak to the young man. He had great difficulty telling me about himself. He couldn't even offer a name. I knew that he was worried about and how this would affect him and Marinette. I only offered him the best advice I could. Then I talked to him about life and things in general. Mostly, I talked about baking which he seemed to have taken an interest in learning about; I offered him a chance to be my apprentice. His face twisted. He asked for some time to think about it. I smiled and told him to take all the time in the world. I didn't need an answer right away.

That night, Marinette slept with Sabine in our room. He took her room. I slept on a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace in our living room but close to midnight, I heard the floorboards creak, alerting me to someone's movements. My eyes snapped open. Standing, I headed to the kitchen where I found the young man looking around confused. I smiled and lit a candle. He jumped, clutching the bag in his hands to his chest. His shoulders relaxed when he saw who I was. I smiled.

"If you're going to leave," I whispered, "You're going to need a bit of food." He blinked. I moved past him to pack a cheese cloth with some bread, cheese, and dried meat which I tied shut and handed to him. He took it.

"You... you aren't going to stop me?" I shook my head.

"You have some questions you need to answer," I soothed. "It's not my place to stop you." His face twisted. He bit his lip and nodded. I clapped his shoulder. "My only advice to you is to ride and ride hard. Marinette's going to follow as soon as she sees you're gone." He nodded.

"You have my thanks." I waved it off.

"Just be careful." He held out a hand and I shook it. Carefully, I escorted him downstairs and out the front door where I pointed him down the road a bit to an old friend who would be willing to loan him a horse. He thanked me once more and left. As I shut the door, I sighed. Mari was going to give me hell in the morning for this. At that time, I was really too tired to care so I returned upstairs, deciding to take her bed for the rest of the evening instead of the hard floor, and fell asleep again rather quickly.


	88. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Papa told me first thing in the morning of what had transpired the night before. My eyes widened. I wasn't angry with either of them but I was scared. My bear had left without a word to me, to search for memories he wasn't even sure he was going to find.

I couldn't let him do this alone.

I had to go after him.

I immediately began to pack a bag. While I did that, my parents packed me a cheese cloth with food, and as I came into the kitchen, they presented it to me with hugs and kisses, telling me to be careful and to be home soon. I nodded, grateful. Papa gave me the name of a man up the way who was an old friend who would loan me a horse. I thanked them both. As I ran out of the bakery, Alya was just walking up. I nearly ran her down. As she stood to the side, shocked, she shouted, "Marinette! Where are you going?"

I didn't stop but yelled back, "I have to go hunt down that stupid bear again!" This prompted a laugh out of her.

"Just promise me you'll be back in a month for the wedding! It wouldn't be the same without you there!" I waved. It was a promise. I found the man that Papa had directed me to. He gave me a beautiful chestnut brown horse with a smile and wink, telling me that she would ride for days without rest which is what he guessed I needed to hunt down the young man from the night before. I blushed and thanked him. Saddling up, I spurred the horse out of town.

I knew exactly where he was going.

He was returning to the castle.


	89. Polar Bear

I headed north, back to the castle. The further I traveled, the more I began to remember. They returned slowly like a single drop dripping into a pool of water.

The ball.

The girl with an odd voice.

The conditions.

I nearly laughed remembering those. It was probably the last thing the Troll King had done in order to ensure that his daughter would be punished for her actions and I would be set free.

I'm almost sorry it meant the end of the trolls.

Almost.

Eventually I found myself back at the castle. Now that its owners were gone, it looked as if it had aged about a hundred years in the span of a year. I dismounted from the horse and set it to the stable with a fresh bag of oats and some water and steeled myself as I approached the doors. My heart pounded with each and every step I took. I was ready. I needed the answers I looked for. For my sake and Mari's.

And search I did. I scoured every inch of the castle, looking for any sign of who I was. I nearly gave up. That was, until, in the silence of the grand castle, I came upon the music room with the grand piano. I didn't think. I stepped forward and sat down, running my hands gently over the keys. It was similar to the one the queen had given me and the one I had played before the vows; I knew this instrument probably better than I knew the back of my own hands. On the stand attached to it, there was a piece of sheet music already open to a certain point. My eyes skimmed it over. I knew this music. I took a breath and placed my fingers.

I began to play.


	90. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I ran the horse ragged. Only when it was absolutely certain that it could go no further, did I stop and allow it a night's worth of rest. The next morning, we were up and running again. I remembered the route to the castle this time as I had not been magicked by the bear the second time we’d travelled and from when I had begun the long trek north. We made good time. About a week and half after I had left Paris, I arrived at the castle's doors, which stood open for the world to come in, and I could see a horse already stabled and being cared for by him. Heat rushed through my body. I quickly placed my horse next to her companion before I ran inside.

It was eerie how lifeless the castle now felt. Silence seemed to be king here and I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter around me. I began walking the halls, searching. Suddenly, a soft melody caught my attention and I followed it, my feet easily remembering the way to the music room. When I opened it, I was nearly taken aback. He was sitting at the piano. He was playing. The piece had a fast but somber tone to it and I couldn't help but think that there couldn't be a more appropriate song for him; it seemed nearly natural for him to be playing it. He hit the final cord. It rang in the air for some time before sending us into silence again. He sighed. His shoulders slumped, finally relaxed. It took him a moment but he sat up straight, turning when he sensed that someone was with him, and he was not the least bit shocked to find me standing there. I didn't hesitate. I ran straight to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. He steadied us though. After a few minutes he hugged me back, resting his cheek on my head. I pulled back after a few minutes, catching his face between my hands.

"I love you," I admitted. His eyes went wide. "I was so scared when I saw you were gone. I was afraid I wouldn't see you ever again. I didn't know if this place would have the answers you were looking for or if you would leave again and I would have to chase you. I needed to say it. I know I made you uneasy and I'm sorry. I... I didn't know what to do and it was wrong. I love you. I love you so very much."

"Adrien." I froze, staring up at him. His face had the softest, most loving gaze I'd seen yet.

I swallowed hard. "What?"

"Adrien. My name." He turned and grabbed the sheet music book he'd been playing from and flipped to the front. Scrawled in an elegant handwriting on the front cover's inside was the name Adrien Agreste. I looked up at him as he beamed. "I wrote this. That's my handwriting. My name. It's Adrien, Adrien Agreste."

Slowly it hit me. Excitement rose into my heart and I couldn't help it. I flung myself at him again and we stayed like that for some time.

Everything was finally right in the world.


	91. Present Day: Emma Agreste

Emma smiled as she finally reached the last page few pages of the journal, written by Tom Dupain. His words appeared as followed:

_Marinette and Adrien returned from their little quest nearly three weeks later. It was clear that they had found the answers they were looking for. At least part of them. The polar bear now had his name but he was still curious of what had occurred with his family after his disappearance; the news was not good. Alya helped him research it. It turns out that Adrien was the son of King Gabriel Agreste who reigned over a large portion of the North-East part of France nearly two hundred years ago for us. The poor boy nearly broke when he read of how his mother died of an illness shortly after he had vanished. King Agreste never remarried nor had any more children. He died alone. The kingdom he had was immediately taken by other people and disappeared into obscurity._

_Despite this bit of sadness, he was determined to be happy from then on. Starting with the wedding of Alya and Nino. It was a quaint ceremony. Only their families and ours, with Adrien of course, were invited and the two of them moved into a little house here in Paris where they have proceeded to give birth to four children: Edward, Alicia, Terra, and Alistair, all as spunky and determined as their mother and as talented as their father. Alya, to support them all, continued to write stories which grew so quickly in popularity that she became a bit of a celebrity in parts of Paris and Europe. If you ask her though, she would probably blush about it while simultaneously bragging about it. Nino claims it’s one of the cutest things she does. Nino too is his own kind of celebrity. Touring with the troupe during Marinette’s year away had done his name well; he was well requested over France and even in other countries but as his family grew, more people were forced to come to Paris to him. Sometimes, he and Adrien played together on the piano that we somehow managed to bring from the castle, much to the delight of everyone._

_Marinette and Adrien are married now of course. They married shortly after the other two in an equally small ceremony. Afterwards, they returned to the castle to bring back a few things before they shut the door and vowed never to return to it; it was part of a past they no longer wished to live in. They too settled here in Paris, not far from the bakery, and began to thrive as well. Adrien became my apprentice and learned everything I had learned from my parents and, one day, he too would inherit the bakery to pass to his children, if they so desired it. Marinette opened her own boutique which quickly earned a name for having some rather fashionable designs, well-made clothes, and, of course, a handsome man and adorable children that occasionally helped around the place. They had three children: Louis, Emma, and Hugo. The three of them are a handful but we wouldn’t have it any other way._

_The stories written in these pages are absolutely true. I do not know if anyone will believe us. Still, we felt the need to share. All those who have written here have kept to a promise to not read the words of anyone written prior to their writings; even now, I do not read the story that lays before me as a promise to my daughter and her husband. Neither of them is willing to speak of all the things they went through and all of us have agreed to respect that._

_Thus is the end of how my daughter became the polar bear’s bride._

She shut the journal with a happy sigh. Looking around, she found that sunlight was streaming through the rounded window opposite her; she could see the hues of orange and purple painting the sky and realized, with some dismay, that evening was here. She groaned, standing. 

“Grandma’s going to have my butt,” she noted. Sighing again, she gathered everything from the trunk and placed it back as she had found it, the goofy grin on her face not willing to leave. She shut the lid. Someone shouted from below. Emma turned and started out the attic door, closing it with a click, as hope rose in her chest. Valery stood at the bottom of the stairs, surfing the Internet on her phone. Once she heard the other girl approaching, she looked up, smiling, and tossed a piece of curly auburn hair over her shoulder.

“Where in the world have you been?” She smiled and pointed over her shoulder.

“I was just reading.” Valery nearly choked on air.

“You? Reading?” She blushed.

“I do read, thank you very much.” She stuck her tongue out at the other woman as she proceeded to laugh. Valery had to wipe the tears from her eyes. 

“Oh this I’ve got to hear. Why don’t you come with me for a dinner and you can tell me all about it?” She blinked.

“Don’t you have to go back to America?” She shrugged.

“Yeah but one day late isn’t going to kill any of them.” The hope that had been swelling in her since she finished reading, grew even more in her chest. It changed. Morphed into shape. Without warning, Emma stepped forward and, quickly and gently, pressed a kiss to Valery’s cheek. It was the other woman’s turn to blush. She placed her hand to the spot as she asked, “What brought this on?” Emma only smiled. 

“A really good story. I think you’re going to like it.” A twinkle entered Valery’s eyes and she reached for Emma’s arm, lacing theirs together before leading her out the door.

“Ms. Agreste, if it can get you to finally admit that you like me, then I’m all for hearing it.” 

Emma shut the door behind her with a laugh. 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did. ^..^ Please feel free to message me if you have any comments about it!
> 
> I'm also pleased to say that if you made it this far, the story isn't done just yet! As this is a Big Bang piece, the amazing and wonderful citizen-of-the-fandom (Jayenn) wrote a response piece which you can read:
> 
> AO3- http://archiveofourown.org/works/13020330  
> Tumblr- http://citizen-of-the-fandom.tumblr.com/post/168561381227/freedom
> 
> A special thanks once more to both my responders, Citizen and Paladin, for giving me the best Big Bang experience! ^..^

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please check out the amazing works that have come from the two amazing responders who worked really closely with me to make this story come to life!
> 
> paladin-of-fandoms: https://paladin-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/
> 
> citizen-of-the-fandom: http://citizen-of-the-fandom.tumblr.com/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Freedom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020330) by [Jayenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayenn/pseuds/Jayenn)




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